Haunted
by jmajere
Summary: UPDATED! Abandoned by the Goblin King, the Labyrinth is left in shambles - the inhabitants forced into hiding. Only Sara can convince Jareth to return to the lands long forgotten. The only problem is, she can't remember who or what the Goblin King is.
1. Prologue

I do not own the Labyrinth or David Bowie in skin tight leather. Unfortunately.

Please don't sue.

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"Sara, we're home." The voice of Sara's stepmother filtered to her upstairs bedroom. Silently, Sara sat at her vanity putting away the toys and trinkets of childhood. Her eyes skimmed over the photographs and playbills that where her mother's before placing them into the box with the rest. When she reached for the delicate globe with the dancing princess, Sara hesitated before finally laying it on top and sealing the lid. 

"Sara, is everything alright," She could hear her stepmother on the stairs now, probably to check on Toby. _Please just a few moments longer,_ Sara pleaded silently. _I'm closing a chapter of my life…_

Later that night, her friends would come through the mirror and visit her one by one – Ludo, Sir Diddymus, Hoggle. Unlike the toys and pictures, her feelings for her friends couldn't be shut up in a box and stored away. She made a promise – a pact if you will – that she would never forget them and would always call should she need. Each of them looked so strange and fragile in her own world outside of the Labyrinth, and her heart ached with the thought of losing them. Although her time with them was short, Sara knew that she would always love them and swore to keep them close to her heart forever.

Even as her head hit the pillow and her eyes closed in sleep, the memory of that promise slipped from Sara's mind. She awoke the next morning a changed girl. Gone were the fantasies and dreams of her childhood, replaced now by cold hard ambition. Reassessing herself in school, Sara realized that she would have to completely apply herself to schooling to have any hope of a future outside of a mediocre career as a half-bit actress. Forgoing friends and her old habits, she no longer had time to waste. The abrupt change at first worried her parents. Her father came as close to almost having a talk with her when she dropped out of the drama club. But when her semester grades came in, all attempts at protesting screeched to a halt. For the first time in her life, Sara had made the Honor Roll. He was pleasantly surprised to find that Sara and her stepmother were actually getting along. She was still somewhat sullen and withdrawn, but he merely chalked that up to being a teenager. 

By the end of Sara's senior year, she had completely turned her academic record around. Her grades and scores left her with the pick of any university. Her tastes in schools were almost as perfection oriented as her fashion sense – only the best would suffice. Cold and beautiful, Sara made no friends at college, though she did hold her professors in amazement. She completed her Masters degree in a dizzying five years before entering graduate school. Sara discovered her true passion in life – Ancient History. She delved deep into the secrets of the past, hungrily devouring knowledge as if it were food and breath and life itself. 

Finally, life was truly perfect. At an unbelievable age of 28, Sara had established herself as an expert in her field. Her cold beauty and unending depth of knowledge earned her a small measure of fame in the circles of Academia. She worked now for the Metropolitan Museum in New York, NY while she lectured upper level History at the University. Living alone, Sara was never lonely. Her life was filled with books and study. Her life was complete.

So you can understand why this busy, driven girl turned woman could no longer hear the sad voices of her childhood friends. It wasn't that she didn't remember - deep down inside underneath all the layers of ice, she still loved them in her own way. Sara had simply closed a chapter in her life. The door to her memory was closed shut, and some doors once closed cannot be easily reopened.

So Sara worked and studied. She made friends, she made enemies. She learned.

But she didn't listen.

Even when her friends lonely cries turned to desperate screams of agony, Sara never heard a word.

That door was closed. Sara simply forgot how to open it.

A/N: I hope you guys like this – the idea has been formulating in my head for awhile. I'm almost finished with My Immortal, and I promise to get that updated soon. But, I wanted to get this out there first.

Let me know if you like!


	2. And A Child Shall Lead Them

__

Long lost words whisper slowly to me

Still can't find what keeps me here

When all this time I've been so hollow inside

I know you're still there

Watching me wanting me

I won't let you pull me down

Sarah was for once completely and utterly satisfied with her life. Of course, most people would consider her regime of research and teaching tedious if not boring. Sarah, on the other hand, adored her quiet, structured existence. She spent her mornings in the lab, afternoons lecturing, then rounded out the evening in front of her laptop hammering away at her most recent attempt at publishing her work. 

Needless to say, this hectic schedule didn't leave time for friends, let alone a social life. Even she was loathe to admit the last time she was asked out on a date was in the distant past. Let's not even talk about when the last time she actually _accepted_ one was. 

But Sarah was content. Being alone gave her the unique opportunity to control every aspect of her life. There were no surprises, no unwanted demands on her time - nothing holding her back from devoting the rest of her life to research and study. 

One wouldn't go so far as to call Sarah happy or joyous with her lonely existence, and ecstatic is just right out. Still, Sarah felt fulfilled.

Until the dreams started, that is.

Sarah had prestige. She had power. She finally managed to gain the respect of her mostly male coworkers. And she had one _hell_ of a nasty case of recurring nightmares. 

The dreams began several months ago when she was searching in her attic for a box of stored books. Stacked along with boxes of old clothes and well thumbed-through paperbacks, she noticed the arms of a once loved teddy bear hanging out from the lid of a box shoved in a corner.

Even though it had been well over ten years since she last saw the toy, Sarah immediately recognized it. "Lancelot," she had whispered, rescuing the aging bear from its cardboard prison. Wrapping it up in her arms, she had allowed herself an uncharacteristic moment of reverie. "What else have I got packed in here," she wondered allowed, tugging the box open.

Inside she found a virtual treasure trove of memories: old playbills, pictures of friends long forgotten, her music box - all things that meant so much to her so very long ago. "What an overdramatic brat I was," she mused, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Just as she was about to toss everything back into the box and continue on with her true objective, a glint of gold caught her eye. Buried underneath the stack of playbills was a small red leather bound book. The gold which caught her eye was the intricate lettering. "The Labyrinth," she read aloud. "For some reason, I don't remember ever owning this book." 

Something tugged at her memory, beckoning her to remember. For a moment, Sarah almost sat down right there to read. This book hinted at a mystery - why did she recall everything in this box of memories but this?

Shrugging her shoulders, ever conscious of the minutes ticking by, robbing her of precious research time, Sarah tossed the book back in the box. 

Later that night, the nightmares began.

In her dream, she stood on a hill overlooking a city in ruins. Surrounding it was what once might have been a great maze, long decayed. It's tall walls were crumbling, the shrubbery dead long neglected and forgotten. Far beyond the ruins stood a castle, dark and foreboding.

A sense of dread would fill her whenever she gazed at that castle. She knew that she was looking for something, or someone. But why?

Although the lands seemed dead and deserted, it was never completely empty. Beside her stood a boy boy dressed in a bizarre motley of leaves and heather. His feet were shot in soft leather boots that looked odd considering his legs were bare. A pair of pointy ears peeked from underneath a mass of unruly dark curls. Honey colored almond-shaped eyes stared into her own with an intensity that belied the boy's apparent youth. Around his mouth small wrinkles had formed from a perpetual smile looking out of place considering his solemn gaze. After just one glimpse it was obvious the child wasn't human - and it wasn't just the pointy ears that gave him away. His eyes were aged and knowing, showing a wisdom far beyond his body's limited years. The eyes of an old man, bowed down with sorrow. 

Every single night, for weeks now, the boy would offer his hand, begging Sarah to follow. Every single night, she resisted. Somehow she instinctively knew he would take her to the castle - the _last_ place she wanted to go. 

As soon as she refused to follow, the boy would hold a crystal to her. No matter how hard she fought, Sarah always was compelled to gaze inside.

Whatever it was she saw in there must be scaring the crap out of her, because she would wake up in a cold sweat, a scream on her lips. She knew somehow that it was a face - a face of a man. But Sarah could never remember who's it was.

At first, Sarah viewed these bad dreams as she viewed any other obstacle in her path - she would summarily defeat it, or at the very least ignore the problem until it went away.

Standing in her living room nursing a bad cup of coffee that did nothing to rid herself of the last vestiges of her most recent nightmare, Sarah watched the morning sun kiss the lightening sky. It was time to face the facts. "Slowly but surely, I am going insane," she whispered to the empty room.

The nightmares were getting worse...

Last night while typing out some lectures notes in the office, the boy from her dreamed appeared. On her desk. In all his glory. Sarah just about crapped her pants. Okay, so he didn't say anything or do anything, but damn it all, he was **_there._ **When she blinked her eyes, though, the boy disappeared. 

She tried not to make too much of it. Yesterday was stressful, alright? Perhaps, this was all just her mind's way of telling her to stop multi-tasking so darned much. Just because your dream-boy appeared in her office doesn't make her insane, right?

Unfortunately, that idea would have been much easier to believe if the kid hadn't showed up at the grocery store, the gas station, and even the laundry mat. Judging by the fact that no one seemed bothered by the appearance by some weirdo kid with pointy ears and wearing only a couple of leaves, Sarah figured that this particular phantom was for her eyes only.

The phantom kid even showed up at her house later that night while she was chowing down on a frozen pizza. She would have offered him a slice, but figured it's probably better to not feed one's paranoid delusions. It just gives them the wrong idea.

Plus, it's hard to be polite when someone's just _staring _at you. 

"You know, I'd quit bothering you if you would just come back with me to the Labyrinth." A melodious voice coming from somewhere behind her, jerked Sarah's wandering thoughts back into the present. In horror, she turned around. 

Leaf-boy was sitting cross-legged on her coffee table, casually leafing through an old edition of Scientific America. 

"You can talk." Okay, so it wasn't the most profound thing to say, but when faced with a talking figment of one's imagination, it's kind of hard to come up with something witty to say.

The boy scowled. "Of course I can talk. I've been talking in your dreams for months now, whatever good _that's_ done me."

Sarcasm. It was just soo typical that her over-stressed imagination's brainfart would have an attitude problem. "I don't have time for this, Freud, so why don't you do me the favor of crawling back into whatever wrinkle in my brain you crawled out of. I'm going to be late for work."

The boy shot straight up. The coffee table's added height made him almost tall enough to see Sarah eye to eye. "Look lady, I don't have time for this either. My whole world is falling apart, and you're to blame. Now until you can come back to the Underground with me to fix it, I'm going to follow you, and follow you, and..."

"Can it, small fry. I get the picture." She groaned, holding a hand against her aching forehead. Lack of sleep always made her feel grumpy. "Please somebody, **_tell_** me I'm not having a conversation with my imagination."

"You _are_ having this conversation, and you are _not _imaging things. And I'll tell you another thing, Lady. I'm not going _anywhere_. Now that I've figured out how to enter your world, I'm going to be your worst nightmare."

Sarah's temper flared. "Well then what the hell do you want?!"

The boy's almond eyes suddenly widened in excitement. "I want you to come back to the Underground with me. I've tried to show you in your dreams, but you just couldn't understand. My world is falling apart because of something you did, and you've got to fix it. I can't explain it all to you here - you just wouldn't understand. I need you to come back to the Labyrinth with me."

"I'm _not _hearing this."

The words tumbled out of his mouth in a hurried gush. "I've figured out how to use Jareth's crystals - well somewhat at least. I mean, I can at least use them to cross over into your world, but it took me so long to find you. You've put so many barriers up in your mind, I almost gave up hope of ever finding you, but..."

Sarah listened to the boys speech with only half hearted interest. She turned her back, and walked towards the hallway, but when he spoke a certain name, she froze.

...._Jareth..._

The name sent an unpleasant rush of half formed memories into her mind. Deep in the crevices of her memory, a door that had long stood locked and bared strained at the hinges. Some great sleeping beast, trapped behind the door had awakened, demanding to be released.

"Enough," her voice was icy, shocking even herself. "I've heard just about enough from you, kiddo. Plenty to last a lifetime. Now I _am_ going to take a shower, and I _am_ going to get ready for work. If you're scrawny butt is still on my coffee table when I come out, I swear I'm going to check myself in to some kind of asylum before the day's out. Now **_beat it!!"_**

Without even bothering to give the kid another look, Sarah retreated to the safety of her bedroom. Twenty minutes later, dressed and ready for work, she tried not to feel to relieved when the boy was no longer there. It's never a good idea to get too excited about your psychotic illusion's coming and goings.

By the time Sarah pulled into a parking spot at the university, she was already well on her way to convincing herself that this morning's bad encounter was nothing more than an extension of her bad dream.

***************************************

"Well this has been a complete waste of time," Sarah groused, glaring at her nearly blank computer screen. No matter how hard she tried to concentrate this morning, there was almost nothing to show for her efforts. Every time she tried to focus, that name kept creeping into her mind. _Jareth._

She had no idea who the guy was or what significance he might have had in her past. All she knew was that the jerk was keeping her from her research, and that every time she heard his name she felt like puking. 

Sarah glanced at the clock on her monitor. "Damn, is it already 12:30??" she muttered to no one in particular. She would have to skip out on lunch just to make it in time for her afternoon lectures which normally wouldn't be a problem. Unfortunately this morning she wasn't in the mood for breakfast for some particular reason.

Lack of food competed with lack of sleep to see which could give Sarah the worst headache. Boy, her students were in store for a great lecture. Pop Quiz anyone?

A rueful smile crossed Sarah's aquiline features. Tying her long raven hair back behind her head in a prim bun, she grabbed her suit coat before locking the door to her office. The short walk to her lecture hall usually gave her time to clear her mind before facing her students. Research would always be her first love, but getting in front of a room full of fresh young minds held it's own fascinations. 

Lecturing was something that Sara had always enjoyed - perhaps because it somehow appealed to her theatrical nature (something she would **_never_**, **_ever _**admit to). Standing before a packed lecture hall, sharing knowledge with fresh eager minds - okay, judging by some of her student's recent grades, maybe not **_all_** of them were so eager. Regardless, Sara enjoyed her time with the students

When she first began teaching, Sarah quickly gained a reputation for a bit of a hard nose. Because she was still trying to establish her reputation, she was a bit strict at times. All in all, she came to love and respect her students just as they learned to do the same.

Setting out across the campus, she tried to clear her mind. A couple passed her by on the sidewalk walking hand in hand. She paused to let them pass. 

...._It's only forever...not long at all..._

A dark, masculine voice from deep within her memory whispered into her mind. Sarah jerked her head around to see if the man who just passed by had spoken to her. 

His back was to her now, but she could still see that he was engrossed in a conversation with the girl who's hand he held. 

Sarah's throat tightened. "Please God, tell me I'm not losing it," she whispered. Thoughts suddenly filled her mind, each memory flashing by so quickly that she could hardly comprehend. Flashing faces, sparkling lights, couples slowly revolving in a dance surrounding her - the memories assaulted her senses, attacked her mind. Two eyes loomed before her. A face, dark and terrible, yet desired and feared. The name resounded in her ears like a tolling bell. _...Jareth..._

She shook her head, closing her eyes tightly. Forcing herself to calm down, Sarah firmly shut the door in her mind. The images faded, their violent attack ceased. 

When she felt like she could trust herself again, Sarah slowly opened her eyes. She was alone on the campus sidewalk, standing in between the administrative building where her office was located and the distant lecture hall. Taking a few deep, yet shaky breaths she continued her walk.

********************************************

"Okay class, first question if you please."

So far, Sarah had managed to get through the lecture without having any more freak out's. In fact, she was finally starting to feel a little more confident. I mean, a crazy person wouldn't be able to give a forty minute presentation on the reign of Elizabeth I and her struggle with Mary Queen of Scots would they? Surely that must prove her sanity. Of course, the very fact that she was trying to prove her sanity to herself proved that she really must be insane, right? 

__

Would you please shut up so I can just get through with this?? Sarah ordered her talkative mind.

Scanning the crowd, she waited for the first brave student to gather their courage. The syllabus announced that there would be an exam next week. As a courtesy, Sarah always allowed her students the opportunity to have a nice Question/Answer session before hand. 

A hand towards the back of the classroom shot up.

"Pardon me Professor but I was wondering if you could tell us when you will return to the Labyrinth?"

Sara shook her head in good natured confusion. "Excuse me? I don't believe I heard that question quite right, could you repeat that please?"

The student tried again. "I was wondering if you could tell me if the next exam will be all essay again. We need you to return to the Labyrinth, Sara. We need your help." The student's voice began in with the normal timbre of a young man, but as he spoke it began to change into that of a young boy - a very _familiar_ young boy. "Save us, Sara - before it's too late."

Sara blinked several times, the color slowly draining from her already pale cheeks. "Is this some kind of joke sir?" She glanced around the room, looking at the student's faces. They were suddenly looking at her as if she had suddenly sprouted two heads. 

A girl in the front row timidly raised her hand. "Professor Williams, you've always told us before what kind of questions to expect on the exam. Has your policy changed?"

"Of...of course not, Linda," coming to her sense, Sara offered the girl a small smile. "I believe I must have misunderstood the question." 

She turned to write on the chalkboard, but stopped dead in her tracks. Sitting on her desk, studying the classroom with interest was the boy from her dreams. "What the heck are you **_doing_** here?" she demanded in a fierce whisper. 

He shrugged, a few leaves from his dress floating down to the floor. "I told you I was going to follow you."

"Get the heck out of here, now." Sarah whirled about, facing the class. Seventy five pairs of eyes stared at her in confusion. Could they not see the strange little weirdo sitting so calmly on her desk.

As if reading her thoughts, the boy murmured. "They can't see me, Sarah. Only you can."

Giving the class room a cursory glance, she turned on her heel and stalked towards the chalkboard. "There will be only two essay questions. I'm going easy on you guys since the results from the last exam were less than exemplary. There'll be sixty additional questions in a mixture of multiple choice, fill in's, and of course the all-time favorite short answer." She wrote as rapidly as she spoke.

"And I'll be there for you stupid exam if you don't stop and listen to me, Sarah." 

Ignoring him, Sarah gritted her teeth. "Next question please."

Despite the brat's refusal to disappear, Sarah kept up the charade of teaching. Her students must have picked up on the strain. After only five more questions, she dismissed the class. As soon as the room emptied out, she made a break for the sanctuary of her office.

Dashing across campus, she thanked her lucky stars that no one tried to stop her to socialize. Sarah just wasn't in the talking kind of mood. Her world was crashing down around her shoulders. For the first time in her life, she simply didn't know what to do.

Shutting her office door behind her, she sunk into her chair with a sigh of relief. Fighting back the urge to cry, Sarah closed her eyes.

"You know I'd quit following you if you'd just stop and listen."

Sarah's eyes flew open. Sitting directly across from her was the new bane of her existence. "Don't you ever get tired of making my life a living hell?" she questioned mildly.

"Well, now that my world is destroyed, there's not a whole lot else to keep my entertained."

Sarah shifted in her chair, her going from zero to sixty in about 2 seconds. "Yeah, well the feeling's mutual."

The boy's almond eyes begged. "It doesn't have to be this way, Sarah. If you would only help put everything right again..."

"Help you?" Sarah just about screamed. "_Help_ you? Kiddo, I'm getting ready to just about _kill _you."

A sudden knock at the door made Sarah jump. Her eyes flew to where the child was sitting. Luck for her, he had disappeared again.

Her visitor knocked again, a little more forcefully this time. "Sarah, are you in there? It's me, Silas."

Sarah suppressed a groan. Silas Gunthry was both friend and mentor to her. He was also the University Dean aka her boss. 

"Come in," she squeaked through her suddenly dry throat. Visits from Silas were usually a pleasure. Some distant part of her mind wondered at the foreboding that filled her heart with dread. Another part of her mind demanded the other part shut the heck up if all it was going to do is be theatrical all the time.

Oh quit arguing, she ordered herself. I'm having a hard enough time as it is. She tried to pull herself together as Silas stepped through the door.

In typical Silas fashion, he was dressed in dark slacks, a blue oxford shirt with a white collar, a crooked tie, and his trademark suspenders. Topping off the whole ensemble were a pair of scuffed up tennis shoes with mismatched laces. Intelligent blue eyes peeked from underneath a pair of bushy eyebrows. Those eyes were usually kindly and harmless. Make Silas angry, however, and those eyes could pin you down like a bug in some middle school science class. 

Right now, those eyes showed only concern. "Is everything okay for you, my dear?" he inquired. "I thought I heard you talking to someone."

Sarah smiled, hopefully in a non-threatening "I'm not losing my mind" sort of way. "Hmm, maybe it was coming from next door." She spread her arms. "No one here but me, Professor."

Sara still used the formal title, much to Silas' irritation. Even though he was the dean, he wanted all of the other professors to be more informal - something Sara had a hard time doing with him. To her, he would always be holding dusty specimens while lecturing to her and her enraptured classmates.

Silas cleared his throat. "Sarah, I was auditing your class today, sitting anonymously in the back. You seemed... distracted."

She suppressed another groan. Why on earth did he have to pick _today_ of all days to spring this on her. "Silas, I'm just not feeling too well today. Perhaps if you come back next week, I..."

He held up one hand, silencing her. "I'm not questioning your teaching abilities, my dear. I'm asking about _you. _Are _you_ feeling okay?"

No actually, I'm _not _feeling okay. Some psychotic nature boy who's been tormenting my dreams has now taken to joining me in the lecture hall. 

"Silas, I'm fine. I just need a good meal and 40 winks."

"Sarah, that's precisely what I've come to talk to you about." 

She swallowed back the big lump that suddenly formed in her throat, threatening to cut off her breathing. "Professor?" she inquired, not really wanting to hear what came next. Okay, maybe the part of her brain that felt the foreboding wasn't so wrong after all.

Silas patted her shoulder kindly, suddenly realizing how ominous that must have sounded. "Calm down, my dear, it's nothing serious... yet."

She nodded her head and gave him a small sigh, but her defenses were still up. "Yet?"

Silas took a deep breath and collected his thoughts before he spoke. "You have the makings of a fine professor, Sarah, and your research is impeccable. Your credentials are outstanding and you lack only experience, which will come only in time. I can easily see how in a few years when the current department head finally retires, you taking their place without challenge or competition." He paused for a moment, allowing this rare praise to fully sink in before continuing. "And yet, knowing all of this, you consistently push yourself beyond endurance. Yes you have passion. Yes you have determination. But I must ask you Sarah, what is it that you are trying so very hard to prove? I ask you this not as a boss or teacher, but as a friend. A colleague." He again patted her shoulder. "You've spread yourself so thin, Sarah. I see how tired you are - it's in your eyes. But have you ever asked yourself why?"

Well for starters, I'm suddenly hallucinating that some freakoid kid dressed in leaves wants me to come over to his house and solve a maze, she laughed inwardly. 

"I enjoy what I do, Silas," she answered softly.

Silas harrumphed. "When I look at you Sara, I see myself at that age. I put off creating a family, starting a home, because I reasoned that there would always be time for such foolishness later. Instead, I focused all of my time on learning, research. All I would allow myself to do was spend time working, working - always working. the museum became my wife and the students children. I looked into the mirror one morning and was shocked to see an old, wrinkled man staring back at me. I'm old Sara - I've wasted my life on pointless endeavors, and I don't want to see that happen to you."

Sarah shook her head. "Silas, you work isn't pointless," she was shocked to hear this coming from Silas. She had no idea he felt this way.

Silas only smiled ruefully. "Yet the most important things in life eluded me, Sarah. So I ask you this - what was truly more important - research or love? Building a scientific legacy or a family?"

She was speechless. All of her earlier worries suddenly melted away. "I don't know what to say, Silas. How can I answer that?" It was almost impossible to meet his piercing blue eyes. She turned her head away from his gaze. 

Both of them afraid to break the uncomfortable silence that feel between them. After several moments, Silas spoke.

"Sarah, I'm giving you an opportunity - a once in a career opportunity. I want you to take some time off - a few weeks, maybe a month - just some time for you to get away from this. Time to think about, reassess if you will, your life. You've become so obsessed with work, it's all you can think of anymore. I don't want what happened to me happen to you."

Sarah's jaw dropped open. She simply couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You know I can't just leave my students in the middle of the semester," she protested. "Silas, what the heck are you trying to do to me?"

"I've already considered the ramifications, my dear. I will personally see to it that your classes are covered."

"But what will all the other professors say?" Sarah had fought too hard to gain her colleague's respect to loose it so unfairly. 

"My dear, it's not unreasonable for a professor to need to take an unexpected research trip. I'm sure with the proper explanation, the other professors will understand. No one else need know the true nature of your vacation."

She stammered, searching for a reason why she couldn't take the time off. "What about my tenure?"

"It won't be put at risk, trust me."

"Silas," she raised her voice in protest. "You can't make me do this."

He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Actually, my dear, yes I can. Trust me, Sarah. It will be much less embarrassing for both you and me in the long run if you do this voluntarily. Effective immediately, you will be taking an extended leave of absence. It's up to you what to do with the time I've given you."

Without another word, Silas stepped out of her office

********************************************

A/N: I had posted this chappie a long time ago, and hated it. So, just like any good obsessive compulsive author will do, I yanked it down and rewrote it. I'm pretty psyched about the idea and hope to keep on writing my way through this.

FYI - I plan on making this Jareth a much more darker character than my other story _My Immortal._ None of that romantic knight-in-shining-armor bullshit. But we'll be getting to him before too much longer.

Thanks again for all of the reviews, both positive and negative. Your reviews are the drugs that I crave - it makes each chapter come easier.

***Throughout this fic, I'll be using lyrics from the group Evanescence at the beginning of each chappie. So no - I did not write the intro poetry crap myself : ) Please don't sue.

****Oh, and while I'm on the subject of not suing, I don't own the Laybrinth or any other Jim Henson crap. So please don't sue : p


	3. What Dreams May Come

__

I linger in the doorway

Of alarm clock screaming

Monsters calling my name

Let me stay

Where the wind will whisper to me

Where the raindrops 

As they're falling tell a story

In my field of paper flowers

And candy clouds of lullaby

I lie inside myself for hours

And watch my purple sky fly over me

If the condition of one's living quarters are any indication of the personality of the owner, Sarah's home was a testament to her structured, orderly life. Her furniture, while elegant, was chosen more fore functionality than any aesthetic value. No paintings adorned her spartan walls - no pictures, no decorations. Everything from her immaculate bookcase, organized by genre then author, to the meticulously stacked coasters on her coffee table had it's assigned place. 

Her study was a paragon of order. The intricate filing system she employed screamed it's evidence of a structured mind. Her kitchen was a masterpiece. The spare guest room could have appeared in a hotel advertisement.

The only place is Sarah's home that suggested a human and not a machine actually lived here was her own bedroom. Next to her bed in a place of honor was a picture of Toby, her younger brother. On a table across from her bed was a small television, tuned as always to the Travel Channel. Her step mother had once made the comment that it was sad that Sarah loved to watch programs of places she would never go, countries she would never visit. 

As always Sarah ignored this little piece of wisdom - it did come from her step mother after all - and continued watching her beloved station. So what if she never got the chance to visit Europe. So what if she never left the States. That's why they made the bloody channel after all - what's the point of visiting places when you can just watch it on television right?

Laying on her bed in a miasma of self pity and cookie crumbs, Sarah nursed a glass of wine. Half a bottle wine and a shot of tequila wasn't exactly the most mature way of handling her problems, but damn it all, it was certainly helping. Normally, she wasn't much of a drinker, but Silas' earlier edict of forced time off just seemed to scream for alcohol. 

She turned her attention back to the television. The show's host informed everyone that today they would be highlighting the world's top ten bathrooms. Fun Fun

Sarah groaned when two bare legs appeared dangling above her t.v. Grimacing, she sat up, almost managing to accomplish the feat without spilling too much of her wine glass. "Oh go away you demon from the darkest of hells. I'm too drunk to deal with this tonight. Come back in the morning or something."

"I'm not leaving this time, Sarah. I've decided to stay with you until you decide to come back with me to the Labyrinth. And I'm not a demon, I'm a dryad."

Something in between a groan and a growl escaped her throat. "I thought dryads were girls."

A wry smile crossed his lips. "Not all."

"Okay _dryad,_" somehow she made the word sound almost like a curse, "Do you have a name? I'd at least like to know who I'm strangling before I kill you."

He shrugged this comment off, staring at her with his wizened almond eyes. Hopping down from the television, he dipped into an odd courtly bow. "Keifer, Lady Sarah," he whispered. "It's been so very long wince I've heard my name spoken aloud. Many years indeed." The sorrow in his voice was unsettling.

for the first time, she allowed herself the chance to look at the boy - really look at him. Fine lines creeped over the youthful face around his eyes and forehead. Worry lines, her step mother would have called them. In his eyes, she could sense a deep well of anguish. Suddenly, Sarah was finding it hard to meet his gaze.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Doing what?"

"Wrecking my life? Do you realize how hard I've worked to get where I'm at? I've lost the respect of the one man who means more to me than anything. What do you want from me?" 

Keifer sighed, shaking his head sadly. "You have to come with me, Sarah. I can't make you understand here. Come with me, and I'll explain everything."

She shook her half empty bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon at him. "Look bub, I don't think I'm going to be able to drive anywhere tonight."

A smile touched his lips. "To get where we're going, you don't need to drive."

Okay, not _that_ was a bit on the ominous side.

"Say the words, Sarah."

She cupped her aching head in her hand. "You've got to be kidding, kiddo. I'm not drunk enough for this."

"You've got to wish yourself to the Labyrinth, Sarah. I can't do it for you."

Sarah grimaced. "I don't believe this. I can't believe I am even considering this."

Keifer tried to sound as reasonable as possible considering the circumstances. "If you come back with me and do just one little task for me, I vow to leave you alone forever."

She eyed him warily. "And if I don't, you'll haunt me for the rest of my natural life, is that it?"

The boy nodded, his face solemn. 

Fighting back her frustration, she swallowed back the hot, angry words which threatened to surface. "Fine, then I wish we could go to wherever." She waved her hand vaguely.

"Be a little more specific, lady."

She scowled. "I wish _Keifer_ would take me to the Labyrinth, or wherever the hell else I'm supposed to go."

"Right now," he prompted.

"_Right. Now._" she gritted through clenched teeth.

The dryad offered her an angelic smile. "Not that wasn't so hard, now was it?"

Sarah turned to grab the rest of her wine, but stopped short. The glass slipped through her nerveless fingers. She was horrified to see that they no longer stood in her bedroom. They stood on a hill overlooking the dead city in her dreams. Suddenly, Sarah wanted to scream.

"Behold," Keifer's child like voice whispered, "the Labyrinth."

*********************************************

"What the hell happened to this place?" Sarah wondered, following as Keifer led her through the maze of crumbled stonework. Like in her dream, the boy beckoned her to come to the ruined castle in the center of the land. Just as in her dream, the last place Sarah wanted to go was to that crumbling monolith. Every time she even glanced at the place, her heard would pound wildly with fear. Dread filled her heart making her feet feel heavy as lead. 

At first, she almost refused to follow Keifer. Since she had absolutely **_no _**desire to be alone in this creepy place, she had no choice but to follow.

Keifer paused, allowing Sarah to catch up. The dryad was nothing if not nimble, moving easily through the rubble. Sarah, on the other hand, was having a tough time keeping up. Of course the wine she consumed earlier wasn't helping the matter either even if the fear she felt was sobering her up faster than black coffee.

"Jareth created the Labyrinth here in the Underground," he explained. "His magicks gave life to all pf the creatures that lived inside, including me."

Sarah came to stand beside him, bending to catch her breath. "So this Jareth guys is some kind of magician, then?"

Keifer laughed. "That's the understatement of the century. Jareth is a sorcerer, yes, but even that is not quite the right word either. The Goblin Kingdom was the most powerful force in the Underground when Jareth lived here. He imbued these lands with his power, making it thrive. But then, he abandoned us." His speech abruptly ended, offering no further explanations.

__

...The Goblin King...Jareth...

"Toby," Sarah whispered. Memories flooded her mind, threatening to overwhelm her senses. She remember her little brother, so young and defenseless. She had done something stupid. She had lost him, and needed to find him. Toby was lost. No, that's not quite right. Toby was stolen...

"Sarah, are you okay," Keifer's voice echoed in her ears, a million miles away.

It took every ounce of self control in her being to slam the door in her mind closed, locking it securely behind. Worry seized her heart. Somehow she knew that the monster that lurked behind couldn't be caged forever. 

"Of course I'm fine. I'm just taking a stroll in dreamland talking about ghosts and goblin kings. Everything's peachy."

"So good to hear it," he smiled cheerily. "Shall we continue?" Without checking to make sure she followed, the dryad took off.

They continued their journey in silence, each wrapped up in their own private worries. With each passing step, Sarah's sense of impending disaster grew. She wasn't precisely sure why her mind fought so desperately to keep her memories locked up. It reminded her of the maps used by ancient seafarers - here be monsters. The thought made her shudder.

When Keifer came to a halt, Sarah was so absorbed in her thoughts, she almost ran into him. Before them loomed the castle beyond the goblin city. A cracked and broken staircase led to the massive iron doors.

Without pausing, the dryad skipped up the precarious stairway, heedless of the danger. When he reached the top, he turned to look back at Sarah. "Just take the same path, and you'll be fine."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," she groaned. 

When she resisted, Keifer turned his back, opening one of the heavy doors. "Suit yourself then. I'm going inside."

"Oh what the hell," she muttered, chasing after the vanishing figure. Although Sarah didn't cut the same graceful figure, she still managed to hop up the staircase without breaking her neck.

#Stepping inside the doorway, her sensitive nose was attacked by layers of accumulated dust. Shadows claimed the old, neglected hallways. Gigantic cobwebs dangled from the ceiling. The bloated black bodies of their creators peered down at Sarah, daring her to enter their webs. It was obvious that many years had passed since someone had attacked this place with a broom and dust cloth.

Keifer's voice echoed in the distance, startling Sarah so badly, she almost jumped out of her skin. "Hurry Sarah, it's this way."

Reluctantly, she moved towards the sound of his voice. "_What's_ this way," she called. After only a few steps, she could see the boy's figure outlined in an arched doorway. Moving towards him, she saw that it led to what looked like an abandoned throne room, complete with a throne placed on a stone dais. In the center of the floor, a small wooden pedestal fashioned to look like a dragon's claw held a simple clear ball of crystal. Keifer, who was standing next to the pedestal, was actively staring into its clear visage.

"When Jareth left out kingdom, he took his power with him."

Sarah moved to stand next to him. She was trying her best to shake her feeling of unease, but fear was gnawing at her. "Yeah, you already told me that."

The boy shook his head. "I haven't told you all. Jareth took his power with him, but he left behind this." Taking the crystal into his hands, he moved to stand beside Sarah. She had to fight the urge to back away. "A single crystal. I don't understand how, but Jareth used these crystals to harness his magical energy. Some of that energy remains in here even now. It took me years to figure out how to use the crystal to find you Sarah. It took even longer to figure out how to reach you. The walls you built in your mind were too strong for me to break, even with the crystal's power."

"The book," she whispered in stunned horror. "When I found that box full of stuff from my childhood, I found a book called the Labyrinth. I _knew_ there was something strange about it."

Keifer nodded excitedly. "I had almost give up hope, but…"

Resentment made a bitter taste in Sarah's mouth. "Why me?" she demanded. "You said if I came here, you could make me understand. Well, the only thing I understand is that you chose the wrong person to harass. Take me home."

"I can't do that Sarah – not yet." The boy moved to a wall where a velvet curtain hung. Sarah wondered why she hadn't noticed it when she first entered the room. It was the first thing she had seen that wasn't touched by age. 

A long silken cord hung down. Grasping this, Keifer pulled back the curtain revealing the portrait underneath. Sarah gazed into the eyes of a devastatingly beautiful girl. Her eyes were opened wide, her innocent naivety plainly seen in their jade depths. The girl was dressed in a sparkling gown arrayed in satins and silks. Her raven locks cascaded down her back in a mass of inky dark curls. Her skin was like fine marble, pure and milky white. It was evident that the artist painted his muse lovingly. He had captured every last detail of her face – the fine aquiline nose, her high forehead, her soft, lush lips.

Sarah's jaw dropped. Suddenly, she was finding it hard to breathe. Hanging on the wall of a dilapidated castle hung a picture of a young Sarah Williams. 

She tried to speak, to protest, but the words just wouldn't' come. Keifer approached her, crystal in hand. "Gaze into the crystal, Lady Sarah. See the face of the man that I believe you must still be irrevocably connected to."

She didn't want to look, but no matter how hard she fought, some deeply hidden part of herself demanded to see. Compelled, she gazed into the crystal. A face filled her mind, stealing away every thought, breaking down every last vestige of resistance. Two eyes, one blue one brown, seared her own. 

Within her mind, the door that for so many years she had fought to keep closed crashed open. The walls she had so carefully constructed around her heart crumbled down even as the walls of the Labyrinth outside. 

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately to push away the memory of the man to whom that face belonged – her tormentor, her enemy, her worst temptation – the Goblin King. 

Relief filled her soul when a blanket of darkness covered her mind. Bonelessly, she slid to the floor, unconscious. 

**************************

It felt like hours before Sarah opened her eyes again, but it was impossible to tell. Time had become a tricky thing inside the Labyrinth. 

The sound of dripping water somewhere in the distance added to the general gloom.

Keifer sat nearby, cradling the precious crystal in his lap. Siting up, Sarah found it exceedingly difficult to meet his gaze. Instead, she looked out of a window set high in the wall, searching the steel gray sky for answers.

"I remember now," she spoke in a voice barely rising above a whisper. "I remember it all."

Keifer slowly nodded, his face solemn. "I hoped that you would when I brought you here. It was the only thing I knew to do."

A tear escaped from her eye, falling down her cheek in a slow trickle. "I failed them, didn't I? Sir Diddymus, Hoggle, Ludo… are they?" She couldn't force the words to come out.

Keifer lowered his eyes, gazing down into the crystal. "They're gone, Sarah. Everyone's gone."

"But you're still here… maybe they're hiding somewhere."

He grimaced. "I'm a dryad, Sarah. I child of the forest. Almost everything inside of the Labyrinth has already died away or disappeared, but there is still some vestiges of life remaining in the heart of the fiery forest. They won't last much longer, though… When the trees disappear, so do I."

She swallowed, her throat feeling strange and thick. No wonder Keifer blamed her for all of this. "I still don't understand why Jareth left."

"You beat Jareth at his own game. Not only did you solve the unsolvable, but in his mind, you turned his own royal subjects against him. Hoggle must have been especially hard for him to bear – that was his own personal crony."

Sarah's temper flared. "Well maybe if he wasn't such a jerk to them…"

Keifer ignored her. "Not only did you flaunt your triumph…"  


"Hey, I never flaunted anything…."

"…but you denied Jareth the one thing he desired – the very reason he brought you here in the first place."

"Look, Jareth didn't 'bring' me here – he _tricked_ me here. I never wanted him to steal Toby, and he knew that."  


"Sarah, can you not even now see." He gestured towards the grand portrait hanging on the wall. Sarah turned to again look at herself, this time recognizing the gown she had worn so many years ago. The gown she had worn to dance with a King.

"He loved you, Sarah, and you denied him. He made himself vulnerable to you, and you turned him away. The thought drove him mad…."

Sarah snorted. "The only thing Jareth loved is himself."

Keifer shook his head sadly. "He left this realm for another, never giving it a second thought. Perhaps he couldn't bear the thought of living here without a Queen."

Sarah visibly paled at this. _Why did_ she set up those walls inside her heart so many years ago? Even now, her memories of Jareth were fuzzy and half formed. "Your right in one way – I should have thought about what Jareth would have done to my friends after I beat his Labyrinth. I never dreamed he would have just left…"

Keifer gazed at her with a sudden intensity. "You have to find him, Sarah. If Jareth doesn't come back soon, the world he left behind will die." He shook his head. "No, that's not completely right. This world is already dead…"

"Where the hell am I supposed to look for him?" she cried. "There's not too many places in the universe where men can run around in tights and ruffled shirts, are there?"  


The dryad couldn't resist a smile. "He's in your world, Sarah."

"Come again?" The thought hit her like a ton of bricks.

"He's been in your world, holding court, since you left."

"You've got to be kidding me," she groaned. 

Keifer handed her the crystal. "Look and see for yourself. I can find him with this, but actually beseeching him to return myself is impossible."

"Oh?" Sarah cocked one eyebrow.

"Well for one thing, I don't believe Jareth intended on leaving his crystal behind. The last thing I want to do is remind of it."

She sighed. Okay, so the kid had a point. Reluctantly, she gazed into the crystal. A vision of an island surrounded by a turquoise ocean filled her mind. Perched precariously on the mountainside, stood a village with a strange mix of ancient and modern architecture. High on a hill, a castle overlooked everything – it's presence both intimidating and inviting all at the same time.

This was the playground of the world's most wealthy, privileged people. An island of excess, of pleasure, and most of all gambling. 

Naturally, if Jareth decided to choose his world for another, he would pick a spot like that.

"Damn, I've got to quit watching high-stakes poker all the time," she muttered under her breath. "Too much Travel Channel…"

Keifer looked at her in confusion.

"He's in Monte Carlo," she murmured.

**************************

A/N - Okay, I know this is going in a weird direction, but stick with me, peeps. This is going to be pretty good, trust me…


	4. The Hunt

__

**S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse  
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo  
Questa fiamma staria sensa piu scosse.  
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo  
Non torno vivo alcun, s'i'odo il vero  
Sensa tema d'infamia ti rispondo. __

****************************************************************************

She stood in an ancient courtyard draped in shadow. Ivy clung to marble columns and the high palisade. Overhead, supported by the thick columns, were wooden trellises heavy laden with fragrant vines. In the middle of the courtyard stood a stone fountain trickling with water. Along the walls, torchlight reflected off of tall mirrors causing the light and shadow to dance in erotic slowness. The sound of tinkling glass toyed at the edge of her hearing, marring the peaceful stillness.

I'm dreaming... some distant part of Sarah's mind whipsered. Unsure of herself, she walked along the stone walkway, entering the deserted courtyard. "Hello," she called out, "is anyone here?"

As she listened, the sound of tinkling glass changed. Now the sound was that of distant voices - laughing, taunting voices speaking too low for Sarah to understand their words. Even though she could not hear them, she somehow knew those voices where laughing at her.

Irrational fear threatened to send her flying. She wanted out of this nightmare, out of this dream. "It's just a dream," she whispered, trying desperately to soothe her fears. The sound of the voices rose louder, drowning out all other sound. Her hands flew to her ears, trying to block out the terrible sound of their laughter.

Suddenly, a single voice broke through the cacophony, banishing all other sound to silence. "So sweet Sarah, you've come to me again." 

The masculine voice was smoother than the finest satin, yet it rubbed at Sarah's mind like sandpaper. That voice which had haunted her dreams, fueled her fantasies, had been almost impossible to forget, but she had done it, just as she had forgotten everything else about the Labyrinth. She was a fool to believe that the voice of Jareth wouldn't return to torment her sleep as well.

Trying to ignore him, yet knowing it was impossible, she walked towards the fountain in the center of the courtyard. All at once, Sarah was sixteen years old again, young and defenseless against the Goblin King's wicked power of seduction.

"You tried to forget me," the voice reprimanded, almost sounding genuinely hurt in a mocking sort of way. "I offered you everything you ever wanted. Everything you ever dreamed. And you through it all away in woman's folly." His disembodied voice came from nowhere, yet it surrounded her completely. There was no hope for escape.

"Liar," she seethed. She was no sixteen year old fool, anymore. Sarah was a woman now, and would fight him no matter what he tried to pull. Anger welled up in her breast. "You tried to manipulate me by pretending at love, something you obviously know nothing about. You tried to take advantage of my innocence."

Laughter echoed through the courtyard, reverberating in her mind. Jareth seemed infinitely amused at her accusations. "Tricked you, did I? Oh Sarah, you have so much to learn."

The short hairs on the back of her neck raised up. Whirling about, she saw a man standing in the darkness. Even wrapped in shadow, there was no mistaking the masculine form of the Goblin King. Dressed in black from head to toe, he emanated power. Uncontrollably, Sarah took a step backwards at the sight of him. Her pulse quickened, heart beating at a breakneck pace. This seemed to amuse Jareth immensely. A wide grin spread across his lips, giving him an even more feral look. His eyes flashed wickedly.

It's only a dream.. Sarah tried to reason with herself, but it was no use. 

Jareth stepped forward, moving to stand only a few spare inches away. His silken voice toyed with her ears. "So you've come to me again in supplication, Sarah. What a delicious turn of events." One gloved hand reached out to caress her cheek. Sarah resisted the urge to flinch back. "Did you really think you could lock me away forever? Or where you too afraid to even consider **why** you chose to banish me from your memory?"

Her eyes flashed, her temper flaring out of control. "I'm not afraid of you Jareth. I never was." Deliberately she met his gaze, refusing to step back regardless of his close proximity. She could feel his heat, smell his scent. Being so close to him, even in a dream, was driving her mad with unwanted desire. God, how she hated him.

"If you're not frightened, Sarah, then why are you trembling?" His eyes danced in dark amusement.

She glared at him, cursing her body for betraying her confusion. Unable to think of anything really clever to say, she kept silent. "Get out of my mind, Jareth. I know you're the one causing this dream."

Inclining his head ever so gently, for a moment it seemed Jareth meant to kiss her. His lips hovered over her own for a brief moment that seemed to last an eternity. At the last minute, he stepped away. Dropping into a courtly bow that only seemed to mock her even more, Jareth sighed. "I'll leave if that's what you wish, although I do think it rather unseemly for you to come after me, and not allow me to return the favor."

Sarah practically growled at him. "Then again, you never did play fair, did you Jareth?" 

Again, the smile crept across his regal features. "The game is on Sarah, if you have the nerve to play it. Come to me if you dare…" 

Jareth's voice faded away. The tinkling sound of glass filled her mind once again. Darkness threatened to overtake her, ending the unpleasant dream. As everything dissolved into black, realization came over her. It wasn't the sound of glass she was hearing. It was the sound of the crystals Jareth toyed with in his hands…

*********************************************************************

Sarah jerked awake, her body drenched in sweat. Words spoken long ago reverberated in her mind. _Fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your total slave…_ An offer she almost couldn't refuse. _Almost…_

Groaning in frustration, she pushed back the heavy covers then pulled herself out of bed. She glanced around the strange room, taking a few moments for reality to sink back in.

The hotel in which she currently resided was a paragon of luxury. Standing barefoot, she curled her toes in the thick carpeting before moving towards the floor to ceiling windows that covered one wall. Sarah pulled back the heavy curtains, her breath catching in her throat at the gorgeous view. It was like a postcard. The turquoise ocean spread out beneath her like a jeweled blanket, decorated with pearls which were the tiny white boats of fisherman. A pristine white beach clung to the edge of the ocean like fine lace, beckoning visitors. Monaco was nothing, if not beautiful.

Making her travel arrangements was easy enough. The advent of internet travel made finding a flight and a hotel simply a matter of clicking a few buttons. Now, a plane and a train later, she was in Monte Carlo.

"_What_ have I gotten myself into," Sarah whispered. Not even the peaceful scenery below could quell the storm of doubt which raged inside. Her dream of Jareth was already fading, yet it still left it's impression on her mind.

Two days ago, life was perfectly ordered, perfectly routine. She was in control. Now, she was getting visits from figments of her imagination. She was dangerously close to losing her job. She was standing in a hotel room halfway across the world, all of this in the name of hunting down a guy with an affinity for lace and crystal balls. To top it all off, Jareth had apparently decided to grace her dreams – a problem she hadn't had since she was 16 _thank_ you very much.

She glanced again at the view outside, fighting to gain control of her spiraling emotions. "First things first," she muttered to herself. Sarah sat down at the desk set against one of the walls, plugging her laptop into the ethernet jack. A few seconds later, her fingers were flying across the keyboard sending Silas a note.

I've given our conversation a lot of thought, Silas. I think, as always, you know what's best. So, I've decided to take your advice completely and wholeheartedly. You know me, when I decide to do something… Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I've finally decided to use that passport. I've planned a short vacation in Monaco first, perhaps I'll move on somewhere else in Europe later on. If you need me, I'm standing at the Hotel de Paris here in Monte Carlo.

Carpe Diem and all the crap,

S.

After sending her brother Toby a similarly evasive email, Sarah logged off, her conscious heavy. She didn't like misleading everyone, but what else could she say? I've gone off on a wild goose chase to find the king of goblins?

__

…Jareth…

That jerk was going to have a lot to answer for when she finally got her hands on him. Destroying the Labyrinth was only part of it. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his own staring back at her own. Those damned, cruel eyes, lacking even a shred of human warmth or feeling. Eyes that could pierce her heart, tearing it to shreds. Sarah remembered how he had once tried to manipulate her – all in the name of winning his pointless game. Toby's _life_ had been at stake. All that bastard wanted to do was win, no matter what the costs.

But she hadn't let him. She beat Jareth's labyrinth fair and square, even when he hit below the belt. When he knew she had won, he tried to trick her into believing he loved her. The dryad Kiefer was wrong. Jareth never loved her. That's not why he left the Labyrinth, Sarah was sure of it. He just couldn't stand the fact that he lost, so he took his anger out on his creation instead.

"Enough of this," she reprimanded herself firmly. "I'm never going to find him if I spend all day thinking about it."

__

Even if you do find him, how on earth are you going to convince him to return, a voice in her mind whispered – a voice that sounded suspiciously like her stepmother.

Sarah couldn't answer that. Honestly, she didn't know. She hoped she could figure that out before the time actually came.

********************************************************************

Monaco was a tiny nation once highly sought after by it's neighbors Italy and France. By the cunning manipulations of the ruling Grimaldi family, for the past 700 years Monaco maintained its sovereignty despite making certain "concessions" to France. 

The city-state itself was small enough that a person could completely cover its width and breadth in a day, if they so desired. But with all of the sights and sounds of the city and beaches, who in their right mind would want to? 

The highlight of Monaco was Monte Carlo – the mecca for all things gambling. This place was no Los Vegas, however. While there were some touristy spots, many places could only be accessed by the rich and powerful. The right tuxedo could literally open and close doors in this place.

Sarah wasn't looking for gambling though. She couldn't see Jareth being even mildly interested in that scene. No, he was more of a pleasure kind of man. Much more of a partying type. 

And who in the world knows how to party like a college kid?

***************************************************************************

Following that line of reasoning, Sarah's first stop for the morning was the student commons at the International University of Monaco. She had become so accustomed to campus life, considering her years as student turned professor, she slipped through the foreign university with ease. Being polylingual had some definite advantages. Because of her chosen major, Sarah studied and was fluent in French, Spanish, and even knew some Greek. Latin was an almost necessity when researching ancient European history. As she hoped, the language barrier was not an issue so it was easy to pick up the names of several local party houses. 

Satisfied that she at least had a starting point, Sarah hit the local markets, indulging in the rare opportunity to immerse herself in a foreign culture. She had always dreamed of traveling. It was just such a shame that it took so long and such forced conditions for her to actually do it.

Back at the hotel room, Sarah munched on an apple picked up in the open air market. While she was outside, the nightmare she had experienced seemed miles away. Now that the sun was setting, the prospect of actually _finding_ Jareth seemed almost overwhelming. She couldn't shake the nervousness that relentlessly pounded her mind. Even if she did find Jareth, what would she even say to him?

"Go back to the Labyrinth or I'll kick your lace-wearing ass? Or how about umm, Jareth? Did you realize you left your world in ruin? Oh hey, here's a good one – if you go back to the Labyrinth, I promise to shine your boots for a whole month." 

Sarah sighed, doubts clinging to her mind like a stale fart. "This isn't going to work," she fretted. Closing her eyes, she imagined Ludo, Sir Diddymus, and Hoggle the way she remembered them. Even now, she simply couldn't accept the idea that they were gone. What if Jareth couldn't bring them back after all?

"This is all my fault," she whispered. Shaking her head, she pushed back the despair that threatened to overwhelm her. She had fought too long to keep her emotions at bay to let them get the best of her now. She would find Jareth then _make_ him return to the Labyrinth by any means necessary. "Even if I have to hit him over the head and force him myself," she said with a grin.

Feeling better, she contented herself with pouring over her limited wardrobe, chastising herself for not bringing anything even remotely partyable. Setting on a pair of black slacks matched with a pale blue silken blouse that brought out the smokiness of her eyes, Sarah headed towards the shower. It was time to start hunting.

************************************************************************

Okay, so finding Jareth might not be as easy as she originally hoped. The party places the college brats recommended were packed with people – just not the kind of people she needed. While the pleasure palaces seemed like a great place for scoring a few body shots, Sarah instinctively knew this wasn't what she was looking for. For one thing, they lacked the sophistication a man like Jareth would crave. 

Giving up on her college leads, she broke down and asked the bartender for direction.

She was in luck. Hoping into a cab, she was pleased to see the entire atmosphere gradually change as the headed into a much more expensive part of Monte Carlo. After a her quick jaunt, the cabbie dropped her off in front of a classy little joint named L'Mer de Pize. 

Once inside, Sarah was shocked by the change. Gentlemen dressed in expensive designer suits lounged on leather settees discussing business in low voices. Women decked out in jewelry and dresses gathered in clusters. She felt the disapproving eyes from the patrons, heavy as weights as she made her way to the bar in the center of the room. 

Feeling out of place and underdressed, she slid onto a stool. "Mademoiselle," the tender inquired politely.

"White wine please," she ordered, a polite smile on her lips. Her cheeks were burning with embarrassment. She could only hope they weren't as red as they felt.

When he returned with her drink, she leaned forward. "I'm looking for a gentleman. Perhaps you could help me?" She smiled pleasantly, trying to keep her voice low. This place was making her feel awkward – out of place. Glancing around, she noticed two other men sitting relatively close by. One was an elderly gentleman sipping a glass of port. He seemed occupied with watching the flames in the nearby fireplace. The other was a young, oily looking man with a sharp, pinched face – a face she instantly disliked. Looking at him gave Sarah the impression of a weasel. He was openly staring at her, not even attempting discretion. Sarah frowned, turning her attention back to the bartender.

"A gentleman, you say? What would be his name, mademoiselle?"

Sarah paused, a panicked thought suddenly occurring to her. What if Jareth didn't use his name in this world? She would have to try it anyway. What choice did she have? "His name is Jareth. He's an old friend of mine, you see. I heard that he was here in town, but I'm not sure how to find him."

The sudden gleam of interest in the weasel's face was unmistakable. Sarah didn't notice, her attention left solely on the bartender's sudden moodswing.

The friendliness had drained from his face, replaced by some dark, ugly emotion. "Who do you say you were looking for?"

She blinked in confusion. "His name is Jareth…" Her voice faltered no matter hard she struggled to keep it steady. Sarah felt exposed – as if everyone in the bar was suddenly watching her, listening to her every word.

The bartender's eyes narrowed, lips spreading into a thin line. "I know nothing about that **_snake_** mademoiselle. If you have even a shred of intelligence, l'enfant, I advise you to stay the same way." 

She shook her head, unbelieving. The last thing she expected was to get such an angry reaction from this guy. "Listen, you don't' understand. I have to find him," she couldn't keep the desperation from creeping into her voice.

Shaking his head in disgust, the man turned and walked away. Sarah's cheeks burned in embarrassment. If people hadn't noticed her enter, they certainly turned to watch her leave. Stepping into the cool night air only helped to cool her embarrassment marginally. She considered calling a cab, but decided to walk home instead. Hopefully, the walk might help her clear her jumbled mind.

It was obvious to her that the bartender knew something about Jareth. Only the Goblin King could make somebody **_that_** mad, she thought with a grin. Now the question was how to get the guy to talk.

A sense of uneasiness crept over her. Suddenly she was aware of the sound of footsteps following close behind her own.

"Mademoiselle," a thin, whispery voice called.

Sarah whirled about to see the weasely man from the bar. Her stomach clenched nervously. "Why are you following me?" 

The man held his hands up in an innocent gesture. "Pardon me, but I was only trying to help, you see. I couldn't' help but overhear you earlier. It would give me such pleasure to help such a sweet lady as yourself. Perhaps you will allow me to assist?"

Sarah did _not_ like this guy. She was all too aware of the dimly lit sidewalk for the moment vacant of other people. It would be all too easy for this guy to turn psycho. "So you know Jareth, do you? Any idea where I can find him?" 

The man moved quickly , closing the gap between them. Sarah's danger sense was screaming for escape. …_But she had to find Jareth, no matter what the cost_.

"I know **_a_** Jareth. Perhaps he is the one you seek?" He held out his hand. "Perhaps you would like me to take you to him?"

She took a step backwards. "Maybe you can just give me the directions? It's pretty late."

Catching her completely off her guard, the man darted forward lunging out unexpectedly. He grabbed her arms, slamming her up against the side of a building. The impact painfully forced all of the air out of her lungs. Her surprise at the viciousness of this sudden attack left her momentarily defenseless. Before she could even fight back, she felt the cold steel of a knife held against her throat. "Not too late for a bit of amore, my sweet, wouldn't you agree?" He leaned in close enough that she could smell the stink of stale sweat. "Perhaps you would just prefer to come to my home and we can find this _Jareth_ together?"

The sound of a sickening thud startled her so badly she almost screamed. Shocked, she watched as her attacker slid to his feet, unconscious. It took her shocked mind several moments to fully register what had happen. Standing behind her fallen attacker stood the elderly gentleman from the bar tucking the cane he had used to knock the weasel unconscious back under his arm.

"Coward," he murmured in a perfectly cultured English voice. "Men like that never feel quite so randy after getting smacked in the skull, eh?" 

Her jaw dropped open. She tried to think of something to say, some word of thanks, but simply couldn't. She was too shocked.

The man dropped into a courtly bow. "You're Sarah Williams, I presume? Jareth's been expecting you."

***************************

A/N: Hope you guys liked the chapter. Please feel free to leave me a review and let me know what you think.

**This is the introduction to The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Elliot


	5. Malcolm

Sarah tried in vain not to look surprised, but her brain simply couldn't comprehend what had just happened. She sat across from the strange gentleman, presumably one of Jareth's minions, safely ensconced in the back of an awaiting Bentley. If it wasn't for the shear arrogance of the situation, Sarah would have thought herself insane. Only Jareth would have the audacity to send his butler to go and fetch her. And it was a good thing he did - a few minutes later and the situation might have turned much worse.

__

Hmmm...she mused..._getting raped by some weirdo street fiend or facing Jareth. Not a very good bloody choice..._

Despite herself, a tiny smile played at the corner of her lips. Surely it can't be all that bad. Jareth was never the King of Courtesy and Fair Play, but at least he never tried to hump her leg. The image that thought brought to her head made her laugh nervously. Embarrassed, she glanced at the man still seated across from her. The older man was watching her, staring with icy blue eyes. On first impulse, the man appeared cultured, elderly, and above all kindly. Sort of the nice, warm, sit-on-Grandpa's-lap kind of vibe. If she ever got close enough to smell him, she was sure the scent would be a hint of tobacco and peppermint. Maybe a whiff of some expensive old man's cologne. Very comforting, indeed.

But his eyes told a different story.

She had seen eyes like that before on one other man. Eyes that could pierce right through a person, pinning them to the ground like a bug on a mat. Eyes that could turn soft and caring, full of concern. Silas Gunthry, her mentor and confidant, had that same uncanny ability. Yet, where his eyes were almost always warm to her, the man sitting across from her was the exact opposite. Suddenly Sarah realized that while Silas was devoted to protecting her, this man was completely devoted to protecting Jareth. It would be a huge mistake to allow herself to trust this guy an inch.

He was still watching her. Dimly she wondered if he was in some way sizing her up. Measuring the threat she might pose to his master. Sarah got the distinct impression that this guy didn't like her to much. Swallowing back a sudden urge to grit her teeth , she forced herself to stay in control. Sure, this guy worked for Jareth, and maybe he _didn't_ like her too well, but Sarah could at least find out where it was he was taking her. Besides, the guy did save her skin after all. If he was going to do her any harm, _surely_ he would have already done it.

"I want to thank you," she murmured. "It's a good thing Jareth sent you when he did or I might have been in real trouble." She tried to flash him a charming smile, but wasn't nearly as successful as she hoped. It had been too many years since she had last tried her hand at charming others and only managed something that looked much more like a grimace than a grin.

"Your humble servant, Madam." He inclined his head slightly, eyeing her warily. Perhaps her unexpected show of teeth made him nervous.

Sarah leaned forward, undaunted. "So tell me, Mr." She paused.

"Malcolm. No mister, just Malcolm."

"Malcolm then," she paused. "How did Jareth know I was here?"

A wry grin crept across his mouth, while his eyes twinkled with amusement. They seemed to say, _you don't really think I'm going to tell you something like that, do you?_ Again, Sarah had to fight back the urge to grit her teeth.

"Madam,"

"Sarah," she interrupted. "Not Madam, just Sarah."

A look of annoyance flitted past his face only to be quickly replaced with an impassive mask. "_Madam._ I do not presume to know my Master's mind. While I agree that it was certainly providence that I found you when I did, I did not come prepared for battle if you know what I mean."

"Uh huh." Sarah closed her eyes for a moment, lifting a hand to her suddenly throbbing temple. "Lucky me, right?"

Malcolm did not deign to answer.

Turning her head to the window, Sarah noticed that the lights of Monte Carlo had faded. Instead, she was surrounded by tall, stately trees and a rising coastline. All of it was completely unfamiliar. Panic surged through her, but she squelched it back down. Of course it was unfamiliar. If it was friggin familiar, she would have been able to find Jareth on her own.

Up ahead, Sarah could see that they were turning onto a private lane guarded by a thick concrete wall at least ten feet high. A gate stood up ahead blocking their path. As soon as the car pulled into view of the guardsmen, they were waived through.

"Where're almost there, I believe." Malcolm murmured unnecessarily.

Sarah held her breath as the mansion up ahead loomed into view. Upon seeing the monolith of stone and glass up ahead, she realized just how inadequate the word "mansion" could be. This obscenely large creation of palisades, spinnerets, and archways was no mansion. It was a friggin _castle_.

The Bentley pulled into a smooth stone driveway adorned with an ornately fashioned archway complete with stone gargoyles that looked rater suspiciously like little goblins making scary faces. Packed in the courtyard was a collection of at least fifty or more luxury vehicles - limos, Rolls, a few Jag's. Apparently she wasn't the only one making a little visit to the Goblin King tonight.

When the car finally rolled to a stop, a liveried servant opened her door for her and offered his hand. _"What the hey,"_ she muttered to herself, accepting the proffered hand.

Looking around at the opulent surroundings, Sarah couldn't help but snort in derision. What the heck was she _thinking _when she searched for Jareth in the bars and party palaces. Of _course_ Jareth would create a palace of his own. And from the looks of the packed courtyard, there was quite a party in the process. Even from out here, the tinkling of music and cultured laughter filtered to where she was standing. Oh yes, quite the party indeed.

"This way, Madam." Malcolm's low voice cut through her silent musings. Walking past her, Malcolm moved to the front door, pausing to ensure that she followed.

For a moment, Sarah paused. He was watching her again, piercing her with those startling blue eyes. _It's not too late to run,_ they seemed to say, _not too late for you to escape this._

A voice from distant memory whispered, "_Go back to your toys, Sarah.... Forget all about the baby..."_

I can't forget, she decided. _Damn you Jareth for bringing me here, for forcing my hand. Damn you for making me remember. Damn you for making the need to forget. _Closing her eyes, Sarah tried to clear her mind, but all she could see was the ruined labyrinth in her mind. All she could hear where the dying cries of her friends - her precious, yet forgotten, friends. "Oh Hoggle," she whispered, fighting back unwanted, unshed tears.

__

Damn you Jareth... For I can't turn back now.

Pushing back every last vestige of fear and regret, Sarah lifted her head high. If she was going to have to face her enemy, she would do it on her terms. She had come to far, sacrificed too much to lose everything. If this was just another game, then she would simply have to win.

She stepped towards Malcolm, evenly meeting his cool gaze. He paused for a moment, searching her face.

"Well?" Sarah gestured impatiently, waiting for the servant to lead her inside.

A slow, unkindly grin crept across Malcolm's lips. "But of course, Madam. The Master awaits inside."

A/N:

It's a short chappie, I know, but I've got inspiration!!! The chappies will keep coming now, I promise!!!

Please R/R


	6. The Meeting

Stepping into the castle foyer, Sarah's breath caught in her throat. Up ahead, she could see the shimmering lights of a thousand candles reflected off of the gilded mirrors placed so they could catch the optimal light. The sound of stringed music floated through the room, barely audible above the din of the crowd. Men and women all dressed in expensive suits and designer dresses clustered together holding flutes of champagne. The men joked in small groups while the women all pretended not to eat the hors d' oeuvres.

The heat of embarrassment crept into her pale cheeks. She had been to social parties at the university before, hating every last moment of them. While she wasn't the queen of social graces, she did know that she was grossly underdressed and out of place. Her eyes quickly scanned the crowd, poring over the sea of faces. While the candles provided more light than she would have imagined, the room was simply too vast to see. Regardless, she strained to catch a glimpse of Jareth. With a bit of chagrin, she belatedly realized that she had no idea what Jareth might look like. It had been over ten years since she had last seen him and she was a child no longer. Would he look the same through her adult eyes as he did when she was nothing more than a child?

The string quartet changed the song, trading Mozart for a gentle waltz. A soft murmur moved through the crowd and couples began to pair up. Closing her eyes, a faint memory tugged at the edge of her senses. With a ferocity that surprised even herself, Sarah shut it away. This was NOT the time to start reminiscing, she chided herself. She promptly forced her eyes open, resuming her scan of the crowd. Standing there, peering as hard as she could, Sarah jumped when a cold hand closed around her elbow. It was Malcolm.

"My master wishes to see you directly. Allow me to lead you to his study, Madam."

Sarah was relieved. For a moment there, she was terrified to think that she would have to navigate through a social situation more nerve wracking than she cared to deal with for the moment. Simply the task of facing Jareth was more than she was up to, now that she mentioned it.

Again forcing her rebellious mind to push away all fear, she shrugged her shoulders trying to stay as nonchalant as possible. "Whatever. Lead away, Jeeves." Whether it was from her own nervousness or the intensity of the situation, Sarah was much colder than she meant to be.

Malcolm's flinty eyes managed to turn a few degrees colder before he turned away. Obviously he wasn't accustomed to being addressed so coldly. Sarah shrugged. Maybe he just didn't like the moniker. _Jeeves... _She grinned. It was evil of her, but seeing Jareth's strutting peacock of a butler so irritated suddenly put her in a much better mood.

Keeping his stiff back to her, Malcolm skirted around the crowd and lead her to a hallway awash with artificial lights. Again, the opulence of the place amazed her almost as much as it annoyed. Plush red carpeting covered the floor. The walls were covered in expensive, extremely tasteful, silk paper. Set against the wall was a plate mail suit. One quick glance told her that this was no replica either. Although it wasn't her specialty, she knew just enough about ancient armory to make her dangerous, as Silas loved to say.

The hallway seemed to stretch on forever. On the walls were expensive paintings, an antique tapestry. _Enough Jareth, _Sarah mentally growled, _we know you're rich already. There's no need to beat our heads against he bloody wall. _Finally the butler stopped before a set of mahogany doors. Opening it for her, he gestured for Sarah to enter.

Stepping inside, Sarah's eyes immediately scanned the room. Bookcases ran from floor to ceiling filled with leather bound books and tomes. A spiral staircase led up to a second level that circumvented the entire room. A stone fireplace was set against the far wall, immaculately clean. While it was a cool night, there was no fire in the grate. Set before the fireplace was a massive desk fashioned out of the same mahogany that adorned the doors and the wood all around the room. There was no one at the desk. In fact, there was no one in the room at all. Sarah turned, but Malcolm had already shut the door behind her.

Sighing in irritation, Sarah moved further inside. It was so typical of Jareth to make her wait. It was obvious that he knew where she was, when she was coming. Devil take the man, she wasn't looking forward to this meeting any more than he was. Did he absolutely HAVE to make this as difficult as possible?

Since it seemed she might be waiting awhile, Sarah took the liberty of inspecting Jareth's study. Scattered around the room were leather couches and chairs that looked so comfortable and inviting. Instead of sitting down, though, she moved to inspect the desk. She wasn't sure what she expected to find, but was surprised to see a tidy (and of course expensive) laptop. Next to it were two neat stacks of papers held down by a crystal (big surprise there) paperweight. Impulsively, she reached out to touch the crystal half expecting to be shocked by jolts of magical energy when she did. Rolling her eyes at her own idiocy, Sarah smirked. Granted, in her experience, whenever crystals and the Goblin King were mixed bad things seemed to happen. But, that did not excuse superstitious twaddle.

Crossing her arms against her chest, she turned her back to the desk, leaning against it. As she stood there, she slowly became aware of a spicy, completely male scent that filled her nostrils. This was a scent she had experienced before - one she would never forget. Inhaling deeply, she breathed in Jareth's smell. Again, the tug of memory teased her weary mind. This time, however, Sarah didn't immediately push it away. Instead, she allowed herself to relax ever so slightly. Only when her body was relaxed did she notice just how tense her body was. Licking her lips, she closed her eyes.

Jareth wasn't here yet. Knowing him, he would make her wait as long as it pleased him before he deigned to give her his company. Throwing caution to the wind, Sarah inhaled deeply.

Scent is the strongest sensation tied to memory, after all. Closing her eyes, she didn't fight back when the memories filled her mind. Memories of dancing, of being held. Memories of fighting, of resisting. She remembered how it felt when his strong arms surrounded her, holding her so gently yet so strong.

__

She was searching for something....

No. That was not it. She was searching for someONE not someThing. And that someone was eluding her once again, losing himself in the sea of people that surrounded them. She was dressed like a princess from some forgotten fairy tale, a vision in a delicate ball gown of sliver and pink. Her hair was swept behind her, falling in a dark waterfall of raven curls.

She was innocence...She was beauty incarnate...She was HIS...

Yet she could not find him...Her someone...The man who she searched for. All around her, evil men and women were dancing, twirling around. Their skirts blocked her pathway, barring her from reaching him. Hands grabbed at her, trying to force her to stay, but she fought through. Each time she turned her head, she thought she glimpsed him, but he was elusive.

All at once, it seemed the crowd was pressing in further. Surrounding her...holding her back... She didn't understand their intentions, but she knew enough to be afraid. Frantically, she twisted and turned, her heart pounding hard in her chest. They were all around her now. Pulling her, sucking her in, blocking all chance of escape.

But then she felt his eyes upon her, and all fear was gone. She turned to face him...

His strong arms encircled her waist, drawing her close against his body. Protecting her - shielding her from the vicious crowd. They were dancing then. He was whispering to her, his lips tickling her ear... She looked into his eyes and felt that she must kiss him or die. He must have sensed her need, for he lowered his lips to her own...

Sarah literally growled. This was NOT the time or the place to start reminiscing like this. _For heaven's sake, Sarah, pull yourself together!! _Blinking her eyes, she rubbed at them with the back of her hands. Irritation filled her, replacing all the pleasant feelings the "memory" had left.

"It wasn't even a memory," she muttered to herself. "First of all, I don't believe I'm remembering it right in the first place. Second of all, the whole bloody memory was nothing more than a last ditch effort from Jareth to trick me."

"Since when did you start the nasty habit of talking to yourself, my dear? It doesn't suit you."

Sarah's stomach lurched in a mixture of shock and fear. Never in a million years could she forget that voice. It was smoother than silk, cultured and aristocratic. Yet it held a cold edge that was easily hidden but never completely covered up. That edge, she knew, could cut sharper than any sword, shredding the hearts of men, not to mention young girls, to pieces.

Slowly, Sarah turned on her heel to face her nemesis. She had steeled herself. Prepared herself. She had promised that she would betray no emotion. Give him no joy in seeing her squirm. Standing before him now, she could not prevent the sharp intake of breath as she gazed into those blue/brown eyes. Like everything else this evening, so it seemed, she wasn't sure what she expected to see. This was most definitely NOT it.

The last time she had seen the Goblin King, he had worn the wings of a broken bird, begging and pleading for her "love". His hair was wildly unkempt, and in it fluttered the white feathers from his stunning costume. Other times, she had seen him arrayed in outfits that bespoke of a fantastical king from the imaginations of a thousand love sick school girls. Always in leather coats, tight breeches, flowing shirts adorned with lace. Always with high riding boots and black gloves. He was, well.... erm... Well, he was just Jareth...

And now, Jareth stood before her once again in all his blessed glory. His wild hair was tamed back into a civilized, sleek mass gathered at the back of his neck with a neat leather thong. Instead of leather pants and boots, he wore a tuxedo. It was obvious by the fit and cut that this was hand tailored and not purchased off of some rack. Most shockingly of all, his slender hands were bare. Only a thin wristwatch encircled one wrist.

While Sarah never expected Jareth to look Goblin Kingish, to see him looking so... so... _Human_ was more shock than she could bare. And yet, he wasn't completely human looking either. There was something strange about him. Something unearthly, too intangible to put in words. There was a wild, feral look hiding behind his rich suit and fancy surroundings. Perhaps it was the arrogant way he held his head, or the lethal gleam in his eyes. There was a magical air, an unseen current of energy about him that Sarah could sense. With dawning horror, she realized that he was still completely, utterly handsome. And god help her, there was absolutely _nothing_ she could do about it.

Luckily for Sarah, this sentiment quickly faded away the instant His Royal Majesty opened his big fat mouth.

"My dear Sarah," he murmured. Jareth's eyes were shimmering darkly, showing his obvious amusement at her discomfiture. He was used to the admiration of women. It was nothing new to a man of his station. Usually such attentions did nothing but bore him. Sarah, on the other hand, was something else entirely. He had always treasured the tortured looks on her face. Some things were so hard to forget.

"Sarah Williams," he repeated slowly, rolling the words in his mouth. His lips pulled back into a wide grin, revealing a glimmer of white teeth. The look was meant to be charming, but to Sarah it only made him look more like a wild animal hiding in sheep's clothing. If that was possible, of course. Sarah thought it was at least.

He paused, giving her the chance to speak. Sarah tried, but her thoughts raced through her mind too fast to catch. Since she did not, Jareth took the initiative.

"And what brings you to Monte Carlo, my dear? Come for a little gambling, perhaps?"

The questions was innocent enough, but the mockery of his eyes was simply too much. Jareth took a step towards her, moving with the eerie, fluid grace that she remembered. When he approached, standing within arm's reach Sarah did not back away. Even if she couldn't summon up the courage for words yet, she would not back away.

Again, Jareth's lips curled, but there was no attempt at charm this time, only a distinct distaste. "And here I thought this place a little to high class for a schoolteacher."

Sarah's eyes blazed with fury. She took a step towards him, her hands balling into fists at her sides. Suddenly, kicking his lace wearing ass wasn't such a bad idea after all. "_First_ of all, I'm not a schoolteacher, I'm a Professor. Get it right. Second of all, what the Hell are you _doing _ here?" Okay, so maybe it wasn't all that eloquent, but dang it, she was past the point of caring.

Jareth spread his arms in a wide gesture. "What am _I _doing here? Last time I checked, I live here. You're the outsider here, Sarah. Try to remember that."

"Oh, I'll remember that just fine, _Your Majesty_." She bit out the title like it was a curse. "But that's not what I was asking and you know it. What are you doing in this _world?_ You don't belong here anymore than..." She was about to say "anymore than I belonged in yours..." but the words seemed to strange in her mouth.

Jareth didn't seem to pick up on her hesitation. He turned his back to her and walked to a nearby table with a crystal decanter filled with brown liquid. He poured himself a tumbler before he inclined his head toward Sarah. "Scotch?" He asked politely.

"Not a chance," she grated, remembering the last time she accepted food or drink from him. "Just answer the question. Why are you here?"

Jareth took a healthy swallow, for the moment looking absurdly civilized. "I like your world Sarah. For the moment at least, that is. I love your fast cars, your women, your intrigue. Not to mention the whiskey." He gave her a salute with his glass. "I grew tired of my last little world, and decided to sample others. Yours was the most logical of choices."

For a moment, Sarah's mouth hung open. She thought of the world of the Underground. Of all the creatures that inhabited it. Everything inside of the Labyrinth seemed so vibrant, so alive. To hear of it spoken of as nothing more than a discarded toy was shocking. She shook her head slowly.

"What," Jareth asked. "You're beginning to look a trifle pale, my dear. Are you sure you won't have any of this Scotch?" From the looks of his strained face, he was trying to hold back laughter. Sarah's eyes widened.

He _knew_.

The bastard actually _knew_ why she was here. He _knew_ the Labyrinth was falling apart and he didn't care.

She hadn't expected this. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had hoped that when Jareth found out about the state of the Underground, he would rush back and fix it. At the very least, perhaps she could get him to promise to restore it somewhat.

Sarah forced herself to meet Jareth's unwavering gaze. She had to at least try....

"Jareth," she could barely raise her voice above a whisper. She swallowed hard and forced authority back into her voice. "Jareth. The Labyrinth is falling apart with your magic gone. You have to go back to the Underground. You must go back before..."

Before the words were even out of her mouth, Jareth was on her. He tossed the tumbler into the fireplace before grabbing her shoulder. Gripping it painfully, his voice was like ice. "_I have to? I must?"_

His lips pulled back into a sneer. All of the amusement leeched form his eyes leaving only a cold fury. "How **_dare _**you attempt to tell me what I will and will not do. The day when you had any influence of me is over."

Sarah reacted with a fury of her own. Shaking her arm free from his grasp, she took a step forward. Her eyes blazed. "How dare you destroy an entire world simply because it no longer amuses you." She couldn't keep the disgust she felt from her voice. "If you don't help them, they're going to die."

His face was hovering before her own now, inches away. He was close enough that Sarah could feel the heat from his body through the thin material of her blouse. It was like he had some kind of internal furnace, blazing hot. She hated herself for it, but she couldn't help but notice how it felt having his body so close to her own. Had she ever felt so aware of her own body? This thought only made her angrier, even if the anger was more at herself than Jareth.

Jareth opened his mouth to speak when the door opened behind them. Malcolm's voice floated towards them.

"His Serene Highness is here, Sir. Your instructions were to notify you the moment he arrived."

Jareth's eyes never left Sarah's, although his lips curled back into a sardonic grin. "And his daughter?"

"The Princess is also in attendance. Shall I escort her here?"

"No. I'll find her myself, thank you. I do have a little task for you though, Malcolm. Ms. Williams and I have concluded our business. You will escort her back to her hotel."

Sarah's face felt like concrete, but she at least managed to keep her expression from changing. She felt like howling with fury, scratching first Jareth's eyes out then Malcolm's. How DARE he dismiss her this way.

"Very good, Sir. If you will, Madam." He gestured for Sarah to follow.

Fighting to keep her temper, she turned. With her back to Jareth, she whispered low enough that he could hear her even if Malcolm could not. "Our business is _not _over. We _will_ discuss this later."

Sarah turned to follow the butler. Just before she was out of earshot, Jareth's voice called out. "I hope you haven't forgotten how to play, Sarah. This seems to be a most promising game."

Sarah stalked down the hallway, the sounds of his mocking laughter echoing in her ears.

A/N: Hope you guys liked it... more to come : )


	7. The Rules of War

A/N

Ahem..

This chappie is dedicated to Cyber Keiko in hopes that it is found and read before Hurricane Ivan strikes. : )

Chapter 6 - The Rules of War

Several hours later, Sarah stood in front of a window in her hotel room, wineglass in hand. After working her way through almost the entire bottle of Château Blanc, she was still no closer to calming down. She simply couldn't decide what made her angriest - Jareth's dismissal or the callousness he displayed towards the Labyrinth.

It blew her mind. How could he not care what happened to the Underground? It was his own kingdom, was it not? She squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to shed at least one tear for her lost friends. It was her own fault for forgetting them, she knew. Must she also carry the guilt for their death?

Try as she might, there was no way to contact Keifer, the druid boy who had come to her in the first place. Whether that meant he just couldn't reach her or worse - he too was dead - Sarah couldn't know.

Feeling frustrated beyond words, Sarah whirled away from the window. Her eyes flitted around the room, settling on her laptop. She should check to see if Silas or Toby had emailed her back. Thoughts of them brought on a wave of homesick so terrible that it made her want to double over in pain. Jareth was right about one thing, she didn't belong here. Anymore than _he _did at least. Maybe she should just give it up now and go home. Silas should be satisfied at least. She was sure that he would let her go back to teaching right away. If not, she could still immerse herself into her studies. Perhaps finish her book. The lure of returning to her normal, structured life was so strong it was palpable.

Jareth had stolen this from her.

When she first started this quest, (she still could not allow herself to think of all of this as another of Jareth's games) Keifer was her only reason for going. It was his threat to continue haunting her that made her leave for Monaco in the first place. But, after seeing Jareth. After hearing his taunt, she could no more turn back now than if Keifer was here to keep his threats. Besides, she had come to far... Remembered too much...

Sarah glanced at the digital clock on the table by her bed. "Three thirty in the morning," she groaned, rubbing her eyes with the back of her palms.

Feeling utterly defeated, she stripped off her clothes and shrugged on a white cotton night shirt. Throwing herself on the bed, she burrowed deep under the quilt, covering her head with one of the fluffy pillows. She lay there perfectly still, silently praying for sleep.

Just before the waves of sleep crept upon her, Sarah's last thought was of Jareth.

..._the Princess... I wonder if she's pretty..._

Much to exhausted to be even remotely jealous, Sarah finally succumbed to sleep.

XX

....But sleep never came very easily...

During those last few hours before dawn, Sarah tossed and turned miserably. Later when she awoke, she couldn't remember exactly what is was she dreamed of. Only the distant calls of her name, the faintest impression of screaming voices...

When she finally opened her eyes, the pales rays of late morning sun filtered in through drawn curtains. Feeling much to exhausted, not to mention still mildly drunk, to get out of bed yet, Sarah rolled onto her back with a groan.

Her heavy eyes had almost drooped closed again when she suddenly realized that she was not alone in her bed. A long, hard figure was lying next to her own.

With a yelp Sarah sat straight up in her bed, her arms moving to attack. When she saw who her visitor was, she paused before hitting him anyway.

"Jareth, you awful bastard, just what in the sam hell are you doing in my bed?"

"Well good morning to you, Sarah. I take it we didn't sleep well, hmmm?" He crossed his arms petulantly over his chest. "Besides, I'm not _in _your bed, I'm _on _it. There's a difference."

Jareth was seated on top of the bedcovers, his back propped against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front. Sarah absently noted that he was still wearing the shirt and pants from his tux, but the jacket and tie were long discarded. His wrinkled shirt had been pulled out and left halfway unbuttoned. His untamed blonde hair had escaped the leather thong and spiked around his head like a porcupine. There was something wild about his appearance leaving her no doubt that he was not from this world. Seeing him like this, in such close proximity to herself, Sarah felt an odd catch in her throat. A warm sensation began to spread through her cheeks and down her neck spreading to her belly. For one sweet moment she actually didn't mind his presence.

Too bad she had to remind herself how much she hated the guy.

"I slept perfectly well, thank you very much," she murmured acidly. "But, then again the blood of a thousand inhabitants of the Underground isn't on my head, unlike yours. An honest conscience makes for much better sleeping, don't you think."

She started to get out of the bed then realized she was only dressed in a cotton t-shirt. While it did just fine for sleeping, it did nothing to cover her long, bare legs. Sarah had absolutely no desire for Jareth to see her in her underwear. Remembering his deliberate mentioning of the Princess of Monaco last night, she doubted that he would care to see it regardless. Some foreign emotion crept into her mind. She rationalized that this could in no way be jealousy. You see, to be jealous of someone, a person must first _care _about that someone and there was positively no way she felt anything for _His Royalness_. Regardless, Sarah's eyes quickly glanced to where he perched nearby.

Jareth crossed his legs languidly. From the way he was comfortably settling in, Sarah figured he planned to be here awhile. At some point last night, he must have changed back into boots. He pointed with one of them now towards the empty wine bottle left on a table.

"Drinking by yourself, Sarah. Tsk tsk. That's not a healthy habit to get into."

Sarah crossed her arms, scowling. "And since when have you been the paragon of virtue. If you came here to lecture me, then get the hell out. Otherwise tell me why you came."

He turned his body slightly to face her, lips curling into a grin. "Are you always so testy in the mornings Sarah? Or are you saving your bad behavior for me?" He was staring at her now, looking at her with those strange eyes. Sarah couldn't read his expression, and that made her nervous. There was an intensity to his expression she didn't like. She tried to think of something to say, something nice and clever that would diffuse the mood, but could think of nothing.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she whispered. Her heart was pounding in her chest for some reason. She wanted to lick her lips, but her tongue felt to dry to do the task. Jareth's gaze had taken on a strange look - one she had never seen before. My god, could it be tenderness...?

"I'm not looking at you any way," he murmured. His voice was restrained yet it was smoother than satin. He was drinking her in with his eyes, as if searing her tousled hair and sleepy eyes to memory. "It's only..."

"What..." Sarah couldn't help but ask when he didn't go on. She wanted to bolt, run, fight, scream, and kiss him all at the same time. Her heart was pounding so heard in her chest, she could scarcely breath though.

Jareth seemed about to speak, but he shook his head. Reaching out, her moved to touch her cheek. As he did, Sarah's mind revolted. He was nothing more than a murderer, she reminded herself bitterly. Would she betray her friends in this way too?

"No."

His hand stopped in mid air.

Anger and disbelief sprung in his eyes. Jerking his hand back as if it were touched by flame, her practically snarled at her. For a moment, some wounded, unreadable expression passed over his face. Surely not rejection, but something close to it, Sarah supposed. Anyway, it was gone much to fast for her to know for sure. Without a word, Jareth disappeared from the bed.

Raising her eyebrows, Sarah almost got out of bed before she heard his voice coming from her left. Jareth hadn't left apparently, only removed himself to the window. With a heave, he opened the heavy drapes letting in a flood of sunlight.

"I came here for a purpose Sarah."

Shielding here eyes from the rays, she almost laughed at his anger. Instinctively she knew that would be a mistake. "Really? Pray tell."

He folded his arms across his chest, glaring at her. From where he stood with the light coming from behind his, Sarah could no longer see his face. The light blinded her.

"I want to make a deal with you. An agreement. I'll send Malcolm with a car at noon..."

"Whoa. Wait a minute. I'm not going anywhere with Malcolm."

He sighed. "You can not come to my manse without accompaniment. When you get there, we shall discuss the terms of our arrangement. Understand?"

"I understand this - as I said before, I'm not going anywhere with your pet butler. If you want to talk, we can talk. If you want to talk at you're _manse_," she said this word heavy with sarcasm, "we can talk at your _manse. _But send a car without Malcolm."

He dropped into a mock courtly bow. "As the lady demands," he quipped before disappearing completely.

Sarah sighed, waiting several minutes before dragging herself out of bed. So it would be another meeting then. "Oh well," she told herself, "if you're going to play his game, you might as well know the rules. Otherwise, how can you ever win."

With this small consolation, she headed for the bath.

XX

As promised, the car arrived at noon and without Jareth's dreaded butler. Unfortunately for Sarah, Malcolm was there to greet her the moment she stepped out of the car. The only good thing - if, that is, you can call it a good thing - was that Sarah was already so caught up in her own private turmoil that Malcolm's presence barely registered. Ever since Jareth's unexpected morning visit, it seemed almost impossible for her to think properly. It was uncharacteristic for Sarah's orderly mind to be in such a disastrous state of disorder. Try as she might, however, Jareth was making things much harder for her than they should be.

Malcolm seemed no happier to see her this morning than he did last night. As soon as she stepped out of the car, he immediately led her inside. "The Master will see you on the north terrace, Madam. If you will be so kind as to follow me."

Since she honestly had no other choice, Sarah followed. This time, the stiff backed butler led her through a different portion of the monster house. The passed through an open corridor awash with sunlight from windows that reached from floor to ceiling. A glimpse of well manicured lawn was visible. Sarah didn't bother to stop and admire the view, however. She was in no mood for scenery.

Up ahead, the corridor ended in a set of French doors. Malcolm opened one and gestured for her to proceed through. Sarah stepped out into sunshine so bright that she had to blink her eyes several times before they adjusted. She was standing on a stone walkway that overlooked a shaded terrace below. A set of stairs curled down and around, leading the way.

The door snapped shut behind her. Sarah didn't have to look to know that Malcolm had left her out here, apparently assuming she could find her own way down. After another heart-felt sigh of annoyance, Sarah descended the stairs and walked towards the terrace below. For the hundredth time that day, she tugged at her skirt in a nervous gesture completely unlike her normal behavior. For the first time in years, she had carefully considered her meager wardrobe before dressing. It was a vain attempt to look her best, she knew. Of course she would never admit that she was looking her best for Jareth. That is, she was looking her best in order to feel more self confident and, well erm.. Well let's just leave it at that.

Surveying her modest wardrobe that morning, Sarah suddenly realized just how dowdy her clothing was. Not that this had ever been an issue before, mind you. Normally, the _last_ thing she cared about was clothes. But she didn't want to appear again before Jareth looking like a tired school marm. Not that she cared what he thought, frankly.

So, after a quick jump in the shower, she was able to make a stop by a nearby clothing shop and change before the car arrived. The only problem with this strategy was that the skirt and blouse ensemble that she wore felt much too short for her more austere tastes. The skirt was fashioned from the softest white cotton cut in the triangular style that the locals were so fond of. The blouse was made of similar material that clung to her slightly damp skin. It was a warm day, after all. Even after her air conditioned car ride, Sarah was still perspiring lightly. Now that she was back in the full, noon day sun, the heat was again relentless.

Descending the stairway, she stepped onto the stone terrace. For a moment, a dizzying sensation swept over her. She had to stop a moment and catch her breath. Eyes widening in disbelief, she stared at her surroundings. She had seen this place before once in a dream. No. She realized. Not exactly. When she saw this in her dream, it was at night. Now with daylight all around, she could almost think she was mistaken, yet it wasn't so.

Overhead, ivy clung to the wooden trellises supported by thick columns providing shade. There, in the center of the terrace was a stone fountain trickling with water. She recognized the fountain from her dream. This was no mistake. Sarah was sure of it.

Walking deliberately, she moved towards the fountain. Beyond it she could see a table was set up with two iron wrought chairs. As she suspected, one was already occupied by none other than Jareth. He was sitting like a king (excuse the expression) with his back to her, overlooking the sea below.

Sighing for the billionth time, she walked towards the empty seat. It was so bloody typical of Jareth to use any dirty trick at his disposal to throw her off balance. It wasn't going to work, though. He brought her here to make a deal, damn it all, and a deal they would make. One way or another, Sarah could only hope.

As she moved closer, Jareth reached his arms up into the air to stretch. She couldn't help but notice how the muscles of his lean body rippled underneath the thin cloth of his shirt. Again, Jareth was dressed like any normal, civilized billionaire in a pair of black dress pants and a pale blue button down shirt. His hair was once again pulled back and away.

"Mr. GQ," Sarah grumbled sarcastically before sliding into the seat across from his own.

Jareth glanced over, his face a blank mask. "About bloody time Sarah. I was beginning to wonder if you got lost."

"Nope, sorry," she smirked. "I was only admiring the terrace. It looks so darn familiar, you know."

His face stayed emotionless. "Fancy that, hmm?" He turned back, his attention returning to whatever he was gazing upon before. Sarah followed his glance, expecting to see the surging coast line. Instead, she noticed a third level of the terrace. This one was fashioned with an open tennis court, currently occupied by two female contestants wearing the obligatory short skirts.

Sarah rested one arm on the table, unconsciously beginning to drum her fingers in irritation. Jareth seemed oblivious, ignoring her presence. She felt like waving her arms over her head, or maybe just kicking His Royalness really hard in the shin. Perhaps _that _would get his attention.

Before she got the chance, he spoke. "Such a lovely creature, don't you agree my dear?"

Well, at least she managed to keep her jaw from dropping open in surprise. "Excuse me?" she asked testily. "I'm sure I don't know who you're talking about."

Jareth's eyes finally turned to her own. "The leggy little blonde with the tennis racket." He gestured with one bored looking hand.

Sarah's entire body was slowly tensing up in anger. Stupid, useless, pointless anger. If Jareth wanted to act like an ass, it was his prerogative. She didn't have to let him get her so worked up.

"A close friend of yours? Who is she?" she managed to ask calmly.

Jareth smiled, his lips pulling up at the corners giving him the appearance of a sly fox in a hen house. "That, my darling Sarah, is Angelique, the Princess of Monaco. Would you like to meet her?"

From their advantage, it was easy to catch a glimpse of the woman below. Sarah didn't want to, but she found herself staring. With her eyes trained on the Princess, she missed the evil smile Jareth hid behind his hand. By the time her eyes returned to his, all traces of wickedness was gone. His Majesty was the picture of inquiring innocence.

The Princess was the antithesis of Sarah. The woman was tan, blonde, and athletic. She could have been the poster child of perfect, youthful health. From the look of her, she couldn't have been much over twenty, possibly even younger. Sarah was raven haired with overly pale skin. While she wasn't exactly what one would describe as athletic, she was still extremely petite. Too many meals skipped while caught up in research had in some ways left her too thin.

Sarah could have screamed. The very fact that Jareth was making her compare herself to some blonde bimbo, princess or not, made her ball her hands into fists at her sides. _This is pointless, _she reminded herself. With considerable effort, she forced her fists open, unaware of the crescent shaped wounds she had dug in her palms. _Damn him _for gaining an advantage like this.

"No thanks Jareth," she managed to speak in a normal tone of voice. Normal was the _last _thing she was feeling right now. Thank the heavens, at least she hadn't lost all of her acting skills. "Now perhaps you might be willing to discuss the **_deal _**you brought me here for. If I wanted to gawk at skinny girls chasing balls, I would have stayed at the beach."

Jareth couldn't keep the amusement out of his eyes. "As you wish," he said regretfully. "Or perhaps you would care for some wine first?"

"_The deal, _Jareth." Sarah spoke more forcefully than she intended, strain finally growing apparent in her voice.

He eyed her carefully, a smug look of satisfaction on his face. "Again, Sarah. It's as you wish." He stood up, pushing his chair back behind him. He held out a hand to her.

"Come. Walk with me. I have need for a bit of exercise. We can chat as we go."

Sarah closed her eyes and count to five. _Nope,_ she thought, _it didn't work. I still want to kill him._ But, then again, seeing that killing Jareth wasn't really an option at the moment, she took his hand instead.

XX

A/N:

Okay, all you realistic people out there. Yes, there is no Angelique Grimaldi in real life. I realize that. You don't have to tell me all about how she isn't real. Let me also remind you that neither is Jareth.


	8. Dealing with the Devil

Well, at least Jareth was right on one account. The exercise was needed after all. After several gracious moments of walking, already she could feel her composure return. As promised, Jareth led Sarah into a high walled garden. The garden itself was ingeniously designed. Walls consisting of evergreen shrubbery were cut so as to allow maximum privacy while still letting in the cool ocean breeze. Everywhere she looked were exotic tropical flowers who's fragrance mingled with the saltiness from the sea air. Here and there were marble statuary set in alcoves cut into the living wall. The effect was quite overwhelming, actually. Unfortunately for Jareth, the effect only served to remind Sarah even more of the Labyrinth. Then again, perhaps that was his intent all along.

Further on down the path, there was a wooden bridge that spanned a small pond filled with bright orange koi fish. Jareth lagged behind , while Sarah walked to the edge of the water to get a closer look. After admiring the view for a few moments, Sarah decided to break the almost companionable silence that had grown between them during their walk. She turned to find Jareth leaning against the bridge railing, watching her with his cool, calculating eyes.

"I believe you were going to make a deal," she prompted.

"I believe you're right. I am going to offer you a deal, but first, however, there is something else I wish to talk to you about."

Sarah started to protest, but her silenced her with a gesture from his long fingered hand.

"For once in your life, Sarah, listen to me for a moment before you start telling me no. It's rather annoying to try and talk to someone when they've already got it in their head that they're not going to believe a word you say. Now, if you're ready to hear me out, I have an offer to make before you hear the deal. It's similar to an offer I made to you once, long ago. An offer, you promptly denied. But you're older now. Wiser. Baptized by fire to the harsh realities of life."

He straightened up and took a few steps towards her. There was a lithe grace to his movements that bespoke of a man in tuned with the strength of his body. In all her experiences, there was no other man she had ever known that held himself like Jareth. That cocky, arrogant refinement that must come with nobility.

"Okay, I'm listening," she shrugged. "You want to make an offer, make an offer."

Jareth had moved close enough now that he stood only a few feet away. He lowered his voice to it was barely above a whisper, yet Sarah had no trouble hearing. The timbre of his voice held the same mesmerizing power that had almost seduced her so many years ago.

"Sarah, there's something you must understand." He paused, considering his words carefully. "I cannot guarantee that I will be able to completely restore the Labyrinth. Even if I ciphered all of my strength and power into it, I have no way of knowing whether or not the effort would even be worthwhile."

Again, Sarah started to speak, but her silenced her. "I don't want to deceive you about this either, my dear. I have absolutely no intention whatsoever of devoting my entire wealth of effort into this...Restoration. So, even if you are able to satisfy my demands enough to strike a bargain, you will only be able to bargain for as much power as I can spare. Do I make myself clear on this?"

She couldn't keep her hands from flying to her hips. Her voice began to rise with her temper. "Then why the hell did you bring me out here in the first place?"

Jareth's voice did not rise like Sarah's. If anything, it became more icy - more faint. "Forget the Labyrinth, Sarah." He made an awkward movement with his nimble fingers, pulling a crystal from thin air. He twirled it now, making it dance in his hands. Despite her anger, she couldn't keep her eyes away. His voice was low and seductive, compelling her to listen.

"You can't do it on your own, my dear. Trust me, I know. You made yourself forget once, but that was only temporary. If you let me, I can make this whole travesty nothing but another forgotten dream. One that will never, ever return to haunt you."

"What will happen to my..."

"Don't worry about them, Sarah. Your _friends _are already gone. If you let me, all you'll ever remember is a pleasant, relaxing vacation. Go back to your work. Go back to your life. It's not your fault that any of this happened. Why should you have to live with the guilt for something you can't control. You're so very far away from home, my dear. Let me help you."

Sarah tried to turn away, but couldn't. Instead, she closed her eyes, trying to drown out the sound of her voice. Jareth was right. It was all so simple. What the heck was she doing here, anyway? No matter what Silas promised, there was still no guarantee she even had a job to return to. Why should she care what happened to anyone but herself? Wasn't that the way the world really worked?

Sarah opened her mouth to speak. To agree to his offer. To take her chances, cut her losses, and high tail it out of Dodge.

..._an offer I once made you long ago... an offer you promptly denied..._

The echo of Jareth's words resounded in her mind. Suddenly, a memory surfaced in her mind. Jareth was right - he had offered her something like this once before when he kidnapped Toby. He had promised her that if she would forget about Toby, he would give her her dreams. That he would make her forget all about Toby. Back then, it was never even a consideration. She could never turn her back on her brother.

Sarah swallowed. Just like she couldn't turn her back on her friends.

"Life's never easy, Jareth. Why don't you help me by taking your little offer and just shoving it where the sun don't shine."

Jareth's lips twitched. Fighting valiantly to keep from smiling, he gave her a scowl instead. He shrugged. "So you don't like the idea, I take it. Good enough, I suppose, although I do think you're making a mistake."

Sarah scowled back, saying nothing.

"The deal it is then," he murmured. "And here it is. I have a little favor to ask of you. If you are able to successfully complete it, I will do everything I can to restore the Underground from destruction. I will even go so far as to check into the fate of your beloved Hoggle and company. If I am able, I will return them to a more... non-destroyed state of being. Are we clear?"

She sighed. "Clear as mud. So if I do this little... favor of yours, you're going to fix the Labyrinth, right?"

He nodded solemnly. "Pretty much so, yes."

Whether Jareth realized it or not, a slow, sly grin was spreading across his lips. His eyes were taking on a wickedly mirthful appearance. Suddenly, she didn't want to know w hat this "favor" entailed.

Sarah groaned inwardly. "Okay, so far it would seem. You mind telling me what it is you want me to do."

"I intend marriage," Jareth said plainly.

When Sarah began to choke spasmodically, he walloped her on the back a few times for good measure. "Not with you, you silly twit. Quite sputtering like that."

Sarah straightened up, eyeing him suspiciously.

Jareth continued, but his voice had grown several degrees colder. "I plan to marry the Princess Angelique."

It shouldn't have been any big surprise. Sarah should have guessed the situation the moment the big M word was out of his mouth. At any rate, hearing Jareth say that was like getting hit in the belly with a baseball bat. It wasn't jealousy. It _couldn't _be jealousy. And yet, she hated it nonetheless.

When Sarah spoke, it was through numb lips. "I fail to see where I come to play in this. What, were you that hard up for a maid of honor?"

He smirked. "You're no more a maid than I am a vicar. If you'll cease your sarcasm for one moment, I can let you know what this is all about."

Sarah's face was flushed, despite her effort to control her raging emotions. She wanted to hit him, to scream at him, but all of that was pointless. It took every scrap of control she held to hold herself together. _How ridiculous, _she wondered, _the utter folly of allowing myself to feel so much unwanted emotional energy on someone that I hate to much. _Yet no matter how hard she tried to reason her anger away, it was only growing stronger by the moment. She forced herself to listen.

"I have need of you in Rome. Last night, as I'm sure you're well aware, I received a visit from His Serene Highness. This was for the express purpose of asking for the hand of his daughter. While the chit herself is quite agreeable to the situation , naturally of course, her father is not."

"I'm sure that's something you can handle," she said in a normal, if a little strained, voice. "Just magic her father and all should be well, right?"

Jareth frowned. "Unfortunately, your world isn't quiet like mine. While I can rule with pretty well free reign here, there are some rules I must abide by. Not magicking His Serene Highness is apparently one of them."

"Well sorry Jareth, I left all my magic dust at home. Doesn't look like I can help you much there."

He chose to overlook her sarcasm for the moment. "Ah, but that's what you don't understand, my dear. You can help me immensely. Do you still speak Italian?"

"How did you know I...?"

"The same way I knew everything else about your life, silly twit. Now answer the question."

Sarah opened her mouth to speak, then stopped. Her shock at hearing of his impending nuptials was already wearing off. Now she just felt angry and more than slightly paranoid. Now that you mention it, Jareth did seem to know a lot about her life. He knew she was a professor, that she adored her research. My god, he even knew what _languages _she spoke. What else did that mean her knew?

"I'm a little rusty in it, but..."

"Good. I need you to travel to Rome for a few weeks."

Sarah's mouth opened then closed. She swallowed, trying to digest this last statement. "Wait a minute. First of all, I want to know how it is you seem to know everything about my life. Then, I want to know why on earth you need me to go to _Rome _of all places."

Jareth sighed. Speaking patiently as if to a child, he made his explanation. "His Serene Highness rejected my request for marriage on the basis that I did not have anyone to vouch for my good name. While the rule of gold his held in the highest regard, HSH won't let just _any _eccentric billionaire marry his daughter."

"Imagine that - a daddy who cares. I still don't see where I can do anything."

"If you will keep quiet, I'll tell you. HSH has a younger brother - one he holds in the highest regard. Because there is little to no chance that this brother will inherit the throne, he had taken up residence in Rome. While I can not win her hand under my own power, a favorable word from the brother might be enough influence to press my suit. I need you to go with me to Rome, posing as my business associate. You need not worry entering Roman society - I will take care of everything. Once you've made his acquaintance, you will seduce the man and convince him to speak in my favor."

Sarah's jaw flopped open, making her look oddly like one of the pond fish. She clamped her mouth shut too fast, biting her tongue in the process.

"Well, Jareth," she said slowly, shaking her head. "This little plan of yours is so disturbing, I can't even think of where to start complaining. Oh yes. I remember. How about, this - _What the hell are you thinking??_ I can't seduce anybody. I can't even remember the last time I went out to dinner with someone. And here you are, suggesting that I not only seduce a member of the Grimaldi family, but I convince him to speak to the King of Monaco for you? All so you can marry some girl? Have you lost your damn mind? No wait. It's not _you _that's gone crazy, it's _me. _I _know _I'm just not hearing your right. Surely I must have misunderstood. Surely you're not telling me that in order to save the Labyrinth, I have to see you happily hitched to some blonde bimbo."

Jareth was upon her so fast, she never even saw him move. He grabbed her by the wrist, wrenching her painfully against him. They stood so close together, she could feel the heat of his body against hers. She could smell his scent mingle with her own. She registered this fact mechanically. This wasn't about seduction. There was only anger in his dark eyes.

"I don't give a _damn_ about the Labyrinth, you silly girl. Damn you Sarah, are you still nothing more than a _child_?" He shook her hard enough that her head snapped back. "I care _nothing _for your guilt. _Nothing_ for your misguided sense of responsibility. You've rejected my benevolence already. If you want me to restore the Labyrinth, you _will _do what I ask."

He held her by one arm, leaving the other free. Sarah reached back and slapped Jareth as hard as she could. When he released her, she backed away. They glared at each other, both out of breath. Sarah cradled her arm, Jareth his sore cheek.

Finally, Sarah spoke. "What makes you think I can even do what you want, anyway? I'm not the kind of woman for this sort of thing - you should know that." _You seem to know everything else there is to know about me..._ she wanted to say it, but held back.

"Because you're perfect for it, Sarah." His voice was low, but no longer cool. "Francoise Grimaldi is a historian, like yourself. Because he has no obligation to marry and produce an heir, he has always been extremely selective with his women. He favors intelligent, cultured, brunettes. So far, you fit all categories. It will be easy enough for you to gain his rapport. All I need you to do, Sarah, is to win his rapport for me."

Sarah looked away, staring into the murky depths of the pool. She heard his slow, cautious approach. "Once upon a time, Sarah, you could be quite persuasive. I'm not asking for miracles, my dear. Only that you use the charm that comes naturally to you whether you realize you posses it or not."

She inhaled deeply, releasing her breath in a shaky sigh. "How can I believe that you'll keep up your end of the bargain? How can I trust you?"

With unexpected gentleness, Jareth laid a hand on her shoulder. He turned her around to face him so that he could look squarely into her eyes. Sarah's skin burned where his fingers touched her, spreading a strange warmth through her arms and into her body.

"I promise you, Sarah. I give you my word of honor. Help me in this matter, and I shall do everything in my power to restore your precious Labyrinth. Now do we have a deal?"

And that is how Sarah Williams came to help the Goblin King find a wife....

A/N:

Don't worry, it's not over. Hopefully, it's just starting to get really good....

...Please let me know what you guys think. I've got most of this worked out in my mind, so I want to know what you guys are thinking of it so far...


	9. Rome

A/N:

Well, I might as well admit it - I'm in a real sht mood right now, so this might not be the best time to write. But hey, you know - what the heck. Hopefully this chapter won't be a mistake : )

Of course, I ALWAYS find writing about Jareth a bit on the therapeutic side....

Oh yes, one last note. I've had people ask whether or not this will be a Jareth/Sarah fic. wicked evil grin Only time, dear readers, will tell. The author, most definitely, will not.

Chapter 8 - Rome

Jareth sat perched over the railing that circled the loft in his library. While many of his new companions might not recognize his current attire, Sarah most certainly would. Upon his muscular body, he wore an open throated poet shirt, complete with foamy white lace trimming at the neck and wrists. As was his custom, tight black leather pants hugged his well muscled thighs. Shiny black boots swept up his calves ending right below the knee. Jareth both looked and felt magnificent. Cupped in one gloved hand, he cradled a crystal. His gaze was so intent upon the tiny figure incased inside, he almost didn't hear the light knock upon the door.

Without waiting for an answer, Malcolm stepped into the room, a silver platter balanced precariously in one hand. Seeing his master's feet dangling above his head, the servant moved deftly to the nearby desk. With the ease of a lifetime manservant, he began setting out the accoutrements for tea - the silver pitcher, a tiny cup made of bone china so fine and delicate one could almost see through it, a bowl of sugar cubes, and a miniature pitcher of cream. Once everything was perfectly placed and the tea ready to pour, only then did Malcolm turn to his master.

"Your tea, Sir."

Jareth sighed regretfully, gazing one last time into the crystal. With a deft movement of his hands, the tiny orb was tossed into the air only to disappear before it could hit the ground. Within the blink of an eye, Jareth was standing behind Malcolm, his hands folded neatly.

Turning, Malcolm bent to the pitcher. "Let me pour for you Sir," he said cheerfully, doing just that.

Jareth had already turned away, moving to stand next to an open window. The afternoon sun poured through, bathing him in yellow light.

Malcolm opened his mouth to speak then paused, considering. "Forgive me if I sound presumptuous, Sir, but I must say, vengeance seems to be doing you well. Begging your pardon, but I have never seen you so content. You look like a magnificent feline exalting over it's prey."

For a moment, Jareth only stood there, allowing the sun to warm his body through. When he turned, an irrepressible grin lit his face. However, there was no pleasure in that smile. No human joy or emotion. Only a cold, alien satisfaction. Folding his hands behind his back, he walked towards the desk. Accepting the cup of tea, he sniffed delicately at the brew before taking a tiny sip.

"Gracious, Malcolm. I didn't realize you could be so poetic." Jareth managed to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, managing just barely. "But you're wrong on one account. It's not vengeance, my dear fellow. Revenge is always so emotional. So heated and irrational. This is nothing more than punishment, pure and simple. She has earned her torment. I am merely giving her the justice she sorely deserved ten years ago. I feel no malice, no ill will towards my dear darling Sarah. Still, if in the process of her chastisement, I take a certain pleasure in the process, I fail to see how that in any way makes me cruel. Wouldn't you agree, Malcolm?"

"It is as you say, Sir. Forgive me if I have misspoken." The servant inclined his head a bare half inch. His icy eyes shone with dark enjoyment. "Will there be anything else?"

Setting down the teacup, Jareth deftly plucked another crystal from thin air. Deep inside its depth, the tiny figure of Sarah reappeared. He peered inside, unable to control the smile from spreading across his lips, giving him a wild, feral look. Everything was going perfectly as planned. Every step of the way, Sarah had unwittingly done his bidding, following his every silent beck and call. Already, the web he had so deftly woven around her was closing. Like the excellent hunter Jareth was, his prey had no idea the web was even there. The trap was set. The punishment laid.

Even his slight miscalculation this morning had turned to his advantage. Although he had never intended on touching her, the sight of Sarah drowsy and tumbled had left him off balance. For a moment, Jareth _himself _wondered if he might actually kiss her. Of course, that would have spoiled everything. Luckily enough for him, the spoiled chit had turned him away. What a pity. Let the girl imagine what his motives might have been. Let her suppose and fret over it.

Sarah would pay for her transgressions in spades. He would break her, he never doubted that. He would break her spirit and love every last moment of her torment. And if that made him cruel... Well, the King of the Underground could stand a little cruelty.

XX

For a long time, Sarah sat agonizing over her laptop. She felt that she almost _had _to tell Silas _something_ about where she was going. The likely hood that he would call the hotel looking for her was remote. Yet what if he did? Knowing Silas, he would send out an international APB, filing some kind of mega lost persons report. The thought made her smile, but the honest reality was that he would be worried. Sarah didn't want that. Even if she couldn't tell him everything, she had to at least tell him _something _about her whereabouts.

With a hearty sigh, Sarah began typing:

Silas,

You're never going to believe this, but I've made some new friends here in Monaco. On a lark, I've decided to go with them on a quick side trip to Rome. I'm not sure where I'm staying when we get there, but if I'll let you know when I found out what hotel.

As always,

S.

"Well, that's good enough for that," she smiled ruefully. Sarah knew she should write Toby too, but simply didn't have the energy. Not that _he_ would ever look for her. Since she moved out of state to the University, she had lost touch with her younger brother. Besides, Toby was still a teenager. The last thing he would ever think of was keeping track of his adult sister.

Sarah sighed. If she dropped off of the face of the planet (or perhaps fell into the Underground), the only person who would take notice was Silas. The thought was a little too disheartening for the moment, so she pushed it away.

Looking around her bare hotel room, she began to pack away her laptop. She glanced at the clock on her table. _Damn_, she silently cursed. It was almost 4:00. The car would be here any minute now to take her to the private airport where Jareth's plane awaited. At least she didn't have to worry with a lot of bags and luggage. The only thing His Royalness allowed her to bring was her laptop.

Her cheeks still burned crimson when she remembered Jareth's last few instructions before sending her back to the hotel.

__

"Don't bother packing anything, my dear," he had murmured. "I'll provide all of the necessities once you arrive." He had raised his eyebrows, assessing her up and down. Sarah glared, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. "It would seem that an entire new wardrobe would be appropriate, wouldn't you agree? We can't have you prancing around Society in a lab coat, can we?"

Clenching her jaw, Sarah _still _had to bite back the angry words that threatened to spill out. Even now, several hours after the incident, it still pissed her off. With no other outlet in sight, she shoved her laptop into its bag a little bit harder than she intended. Zipping it ferociously shut, she stalked towards the door, slamming it shut behind her. The resulting slam seemed to help her mood a bit. Feeling marginally better, she walked outside to the awaiting car.

What she could not know was that two faraway eyes followed her every movement. She couldn't feel the hidden gaze, observing her private moments alone. She would never know how those hidden eyes mocked her angry show of temper. How they enjoyed every single moment of her discomfort.

But perhaps, things were better that way....

XX

On the bright side, the city of Rome proved to be a historian's heaven. There's layers of the stuff - Etruscan tombs, Republican meeting rooms, imperial temples, early Christian churches, medieval bell towers, Renaissance palaces and baroque basilicas. Rome is nothing short of a phenomenal blend of history, legend and monuments that coexist within a thriving, modern city.

Hopefully, Jareth would let Sarah out long enough to at least _see _part of it.

From the moment she arrived on Italian soil, she had been bustled from one place to another. After a lengthy ride through the city, she finally reached Jareth's so-called "apartment". Looking at the palatial, multi-level townhouse that she would be spending the next few weeks in, suddenly Sarah didn't feel so bad. The home was situated in an extremely fashionable district of downtown Rome, blocks away from the central, high-end shops. The apartment itself was exquisite. Marble floors, columned walls, fresco ceilings. And the art. It was almost like stepping into a gallery. Every wall was covered by a painting with styles ranging from a Rembrandt etching to a Raphael Madonna. Surely they couldn't all be genuine. Not even Jareth could accumulate such masterpieces.

Sarah shook her head in annoyance. You had to wonder. Did he just go out of his way to look rich, or was it simply to annoy normal people like herself?

Regardless, Sarah's mood brightened considerably when she saw her bedroom. The room was simply amazing. Heavy yards of fabric was pinned to the ceiling, allowed to cascade down in long waves. The effect was almost tent-like, giving the room a strange exotic feeling. Crescent moons, long plumed birds and other Arabian shapes were carved into the wood of the furniture that was situated around the room - a writing desk, an armoire, and a massive oak bed draped with curtains made of similar fabric. In the center of the floor was a thick Persian rug.

Sarah closed her eyes, conjuring up a memory of her tidy, organized home. She sighed involuntarily. "Yes, well this will have to do, I suppose." She murmured to no one in particular.

Before Sarah could move any further into the room, a high pitched voice cleared their throat from behind. Sarah's eyes widened in surprise. She turned to see a middle aged maid wearing a severe black dress with a white apron and hood. It wasn't the maid, however, that made Sarah's mouth gape open. In the servant's arms was a stack of white boxes. Behind the maid was a line of servants, each laden down with similar packages.

The woman spoke in Italian. "If Madame will move, please? These packages arrived for you."

Sarah moved back out of the way, allowing the procession access. As the packages were set down, a flock of maids began opening boxes, placing their contents in the armoire and closet. Sarah gritted her teeth. Apparently her new wardrobe had arrived.

Before she would have thought possible, everything was packed away. This task completed, the maids turned to leave as suddenly as they had entered. Sarah tried to speak to them, but they ignored her. Finally, the middle aged woman she had seen when the door first opened stopped.

"My name is Mia, Signora. The master has instructed me to be your hand servant. He also left instructions for you." She handed Sarah a discrete white envelope. "If you have need of me, simply call."

Sarah turned the envelope over in her hands. "Yeah, Mia. I have something I need you to do for me. Why don't you tell your Master to kiss..." Sarah's voice tapered off. Mia had already gone, shutting the door behind her. "Oh now, that's service for you." With an irritated sigh, she tore open the envelope. A card covered in Jareth's tight scrawl was inside.

__

Sarah,

I regret to inform you that my leave-taking was slightly delayed. Do be a good girl and try on the things I provided for you. Tomorrow morning, your servant Mia will hand you your invitation to the private exhibition at the Anitquarium Romanum. I've arranged for you to meet our prey.

J.

"How lovely." Sarah muttered through gritted teeth. Without even thinking about it, she tore the card in half, tossing it over her shoulder. "This day is just getting better by the moment."

Because there wasn't much else to do at the moment, Sarah walked towards the armoire with the resignation of a prisoner walking towards the guillotine. She flipped through drawer after drawer, browsing through the walk in closet, a look of dawning horror on her face. There were dresses of every cut and color. Shoes, jewelry, accessories. And even worse - lingerie. Horrible, french silky stuff that not even Victoria's Secret would handle. Just touching the flimsy fabrics made Sarah blush outrageously. What made the whole thing so terrible was that everything fit perfect. Even down to the satin g-string.

It all fit perfectly.

Even the god damn shoes.

Jareth had said he would provide for everything, but this was too bloody much. By the costly look of the clothing, this was all obviously custom made. Even the lingerie - hated though it was - probably cost more than she made in a year.

Sarah swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly run dry.

How did he know so much about her? A sense of terror raced down her spine. Nothing Jareth had done or said should make her feel so threatened. There was absolutely no indication that he wanted her. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"I mean, for heaven's sake, he's brought me here to help him find a bloody _wife._"

But if he had no designs on her, why on God's green earth would he know so much about her?

For a moment, Sarah's hand hovered over the silken fabric of a dress. The cut was beautiful. It would look quite becoming on her if she ever had the gumption to wear something so low cut.

She closed her eyes, remembering yesterday morning when Jareth appeared in her bedroom. She remembered that awful look in his eyes, that moment when she was afraid he meant to touch her.

Sarah's fist clenched.

Why would Jareth know so much about her? She could think of only one viable option -

To piss her off.


End file.
